Creatures of the Night
by Bastille Kain
Summary: Logan tracking Faith as a favor for Nick Furry, drops in on Kitty who’s been attending UCLA since leaving the X-MEN. She’s stumbled upon the disappearance of a number ofgenius graduate students and is investigating them. Together the three of them w
1. Chap 1: Bad Company

Author: Kain

Title: Creatures of the Night

Disclaimer: Aside from a few Original Character's I created I own nothing. The character's of Buffy, Angel, or any other show, book, comic that happens to be unfortunate enough to wind up being used here. They all belong to other people.

Spoilers: AU season one of Angel/season four of BtVS.

Summary: Logan tracking Faith as a favor for Nick Furry, drops in on Kitty who's been attending UCLA since leaving the X-MEN. She's stumbled upon the disappearance of a number of genius graduate students and is investigating them. Together the three of them wind up taking on Pylea.

Pairings: L/K, F/F, S/B

Rating: PG-13. Mild Language, Sexual Content, and Violence

Feedback: Is always appreciated. Just try to keep it constructive.

Email: Kain6639@yahoo.com

Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

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Chapter One: Bad Company

Kitty steps out of the shower instantly alert, years of rigorous training on top of more life and death struggles then she was able to count, had honed her intuition to a nearly precognitive ability. She had been able to sense the change in her fifth floor loft, the undeniable presence of danger, the moment it had entered her living quarters. She quickly scans her bedroom, but the intruder had yet to penetrate this far into her home. She grabs her black, razor sharp katana from its spot above her bed.

Exiting the room she rapidly makes her way forward, searching the darkness for her home's invader. After only a dozen steps she suddenly spins, her sword slicing head high through the air. The very familiar sound of Logan's adamantium claws springing from the back of his hands as his arm comes around to block her blade. Sparks fly as mystical steel strikes unbreakable metal.

"Logan!" Kitty exclaims loudly as she throws herself at her long time friend, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. It was the first time she had seen any of her former teammates in months, "god it's good to see you."

Logan returns her hug, a little tentatively. This was a girl he had helped raise since she was barely a teenager. He practically considers the young woman his surrogate daughter, "good to see you too Pumpkin. Even if it is a bit more then I was expecting to see," he says a slight hint of humor coloring his normal gruff voice.

Kitty instantly turns an interesting shade of scarlet as she realizes she's in the middle of the her loft squeezing Logan as hard as she can without a stitch of clothing on, with nothing but a sword in her hands. Phasing she runs straight through him before diving into her bedroom and scrambling into whatever clothes she can find. "Sorry," comes her muffled shout as she pulls a sweatshirt over her head. "Just felt something enter the loft as I stepped out of the shower."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Logan calls back pulling a couple cans of beer from her refrigerator. "Good to see you haven't lost any of your edge," he says setting one beer on the table while he pops the tab of the other.

Kitty steps out of her bedroom, a set of mismatched sweats covering her lean body, "so what are you doing out in L.A.?"

"What? I can't just stop by an old friend without having an ulterior motive," Logan questions as he takes a pull from his beer.

Kitty smiles at the old man, "so what are you doing out in L.A.?" She asks him again.

Logan grunts sourly as he returns her smile with a scowl of his own. "Fury asked me to check something out for him," he tells her simply.

Her smile slips from her face with his answer. She had nothing against Nick Fury personally, in a lot of ways he was like Logan, but the agency he headed was a different story all together. "So what, now your SHIELDS errand boy or something?" She demands her voice tinged with anger.

"Hardly," Logan snarls, "strictly a tit for tat trade. I do him a favor now he owes me one later," he continues hotly before downing the rest of his beer. Looking back at her he adds, "it's how the game is played. Figure you'd know that by now?" He finishes popping open the tab on the second beer.

Kitty goes to the fridge and pulls a beer out for herself. Turning back to face the older man she inquires, "what does Jean think about that?"

Logan takes a long pull of his beer finishing it in one go. Wiping the excess off his lips with the back of his hand he turns cold eyes on her, "Jean's with the Boy Scout," he tells her unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Kitty gasps at the news. The last she had known Scott was dead, or possible something worse then dead. Jean and Logan had been getting close, building something strong on the feelings they had always shared for one another. "I'm so sorry Logan," she consoles him wondering how she can feel grief stricken learning one of her oldest friends was back from the dead. One look at Logan though and she knows how. In all the years she's known him he has either sacrificed, lost, been stripped of, or had ripped away from him everything he had ever loved. This was just the latest in a long line of sacrifices he had been forced to make over the years.

"She happy. That's all that matters," he says grimly popping the top of another can of beer.

Kitty frowns at his very Logan like comment, "what about you?"

Logan shrugs, "I keep busy," he answers taking another swig off his beer.

"Working for SHIELD?" She asks before shaking her head, "don't bother. Its none of my business, but if you're gonna be in L.A. for awhile I could use your help on something I've stumbled onto."

He takes another pull from his beer, "all you got to is ask Pumpkin," he answers as he takes another swig.

"Then I'm asking."

Faith stumbles out of the club feeling the slight tingle coursing throughout her body. The club, she couldn't remember the name, of had been jumping. Hot young bodies had been flinging themselves about with wild, reckless abandon; sweating and pulsing and grinding into each other. It had left her with a buzz pounding in her skull.

"Got a light darling?" Logan politely asks the rouge slayer as they came abreast of each other.

Faith eyes the small man, whose only chance at being taller then Buffy was his large cowboy hat, which he kept pulled down low over his eyes, warily. His hard soled cowboy boots make a loud clanking sound as they strike the hard pavement. With his worn jeans and faded flannel shirt he looked exactly like what he was, a redneck misplaced in L.A. Shrugging she pulls out her zippo, "sure," she says flipping it open.

"Thanks a lot," Logan says with a smile as he puffs contently on his cigar, smoke billowing around his head from out of his mouth and nose.

"No prob," she replies snapping her lighter shut before walking away.

"Careful out here Faith," Logan says from behind her. Faith spins around at the words that seemingly float on the air. "Lots of things here'd love to sink their teeth into a tender young girl like yourself," his voice seems to come from everywhere as she whirls around trying to find any sign of him. Only the man wasn't there, he wasn't anywhere, there was no trace of him. Even the odor from his cigar seemed to vanish with him between one heart beat to the next.

"Fuck," she breathes out freak by the encounter, by the fact he could simple vanish like that and she hadn't even heard him move. In the back of her head she worries that he was from the council, one assassin in place of the hit squad. An assassin cocky enough to let her know he was after her, and good enough to get away with it clean. It was the only explanation that came to her mind.

The door of the club swings open spilling strobing lights and blaring music into the street. From the other direction a long, sleek, black stretched limousine rolls to a stop next to her. The back door swings open and a tall, sharply dressed, beautiful thirty something year old woman steps out. She radiated power, sex and danger and equal amounts as her dark eyes graze over Faith's form from head to toe, then back up again. "Hello Faith. Lilah Morgan, attorney at law, at your services," she says as if she was in complete control of the situation.

Faith smirks at the older woman as she snorts, "I don't need no lawyer," she says derisively moving to walk away. He was still out there watching her, waiting for her. The game was on and she could feel it. Her blood was surging through her veins. It was time to hunt and be hunted. This was what she was built for.

"But wouldn't it be nice if you ever did need one to be on good terms with the best law firm on the west coast?" Lilah suggest meaningfully to the young girl standing in front of her.

The dark slayer stops with Lilah words. She turns back eyes searching the older woman's face for some hint of what she wanted from her. Everybody wanted something from her, but the woman's eyes gave away nothing. She had no doubt that if she walked away from this meeting the cops would shortly be aware of where she was living. The same thing would probably happen if she killed everyone in the limo, which left her in a no win situation. She wants to be done with this, to get on with the hunt that's waiting for her. "What do you want?" She asks deciding to be a little more direct.

Lilah smiles at Faith's predictability, "why don't we discuss that back at my office," she suggest gesturing to the open door.

Faith nods, then moving faster then Lilah could follow. She grabs the taller woman by the throat lifting her off the ground as she slams her into the chain linked fence. "If your jerking my chain lady I'll kill you," Faith hisses clearly. "You understand me?"

Lilah nods feeling Faith's strong fingers digging into her throat. "Yes," she gasps not sure if the word is going to leave her mouth or not with how tight Faith's grip is.

Tightening her hold Faith smiles at the attorney as she says, "so glad we understand each other," then she releases her hold on Lilah's throat. The tall lawyer hits the ground hard gasping for breath, placing her hand to her throat she stares daggers at the young girl. Faith just continues to smirk at her, "after you," she says gesturing towards the limo.

Logan slips through the broken window as silent as the shadow he melts into. He had been following Faith since he had tagged her scent in the alley outside of The Pit. From Wolfram and Hart, to the loft she was squatting in, to the bank where she challenged some vampire and his human associates, to a bar where she attempted to lose herself in a bottle of hard whiskey, to here the bosom brunette's apartment.

The raven hair slayer had a hell of a time getting into the spacious living quarters. There was some kind of psycho-kinetic field in the building that had done it's best to keep her out. There were books and bedding and furniture hurled at the young girl as she climbed into the apartment, but nothing was going to able to keep Faith out of the apartment.

Logan didn't meet any resistance as he followed Faith into the room several minutes later. Moving from shadow to shadow he made as much noise as a dead man in a casket. Allowing his senses to lead him through the apartment he easily finds the teenager as she scrounges some food from the refrigerator. Smirking to himself Logan casually leans against the white washed door casing, "spare a light darling?" He inquires in his normal drawl.

Faith whirls around at the familiar voice that had been haunting her since she had first heard it yesterday, the left over turkey sandwich falling forgotten from her hand to the floor. Unlike last night she had been alert, on guard, expecting something yet this short fuzzy face, runt of a man had managed to get the drop on her.

After last nights encounter she expected to see him again, sometime soon. What she didn't count on was it being this soon. Or right now. She was in the middle of a delicate operation and the last thing she needed was a throw down with an unknown opponent. Unfortunately she didn't think he was going to give her much of a choice in that regard. "Sorry old timer but I forgot all my matches at home," she banters saucily as she continues to try and gauge his mettle.

He grins openly at her reply, "and here I thought you were the kind of gal that was prepared for everything," he fires back keeping a tight reign on the beast trying to claw it's way to the surface.

"Naw. I think you got me confused with a boy scout or something runt," she shoots back trying to hit the obvious nerve, but to no effect.

He smirks at her, "I doubt if anyone has ever mistaken you for a boy scout," he says straightening up. Faith can suddenly sense a barely contained maelstrom raging inside of him. "As much fun as this has been its time for you to come with me," Logan tells her as he watches her tense up. "Guess I don't have to ask if we do this the hard way or not?" He questions with equal parts sadness and resignations in his haggard voice. He had been hoping she would come along peacefully, but a part of him was glad she was going to resist.

Without replying Faith launches herself at him. Her intent was clear, overwhelm him before he could respond. Logan was all to familiar with this style of attack. It was all power no skill, just try to pummel your enemy into a bloody pulp. Way back when he had practically invented the style.

Pound for pound Logan knew the slayer was infinitely stronger then him, she was also faster. In a contest of raw power she would more then likely win hands down. Unfortunately for Faith he no longer relies strictly on his speed, strength, and phenomenal healing factor to pull him through ever fight he gets in. Now after half a century spent as a soldier, a spy, and most recently a super hero Logan relies strictly on his unfathomable skill, along with his strength, speed, and phenomenal healing factor to pull him through every fight he gets in.

His right fist connects with her left knuckle to knuckle. Even though its Logan's hand that's knock back it's Faith that feels as if she's just punch a steel anvil. The pain that flares up her arm, as several knuckles pop out of their sockets, throws her off for a beat.

Its all the time Logan needs to move in for the quick kill. His left fist slams into her short ribs and Faith feels like a sledgehammer has just been driven into her lungs. She folds slightly clutching at her side. Logan spins around moving behind her, his knuckles crashing into the back of her skull causing spots to swim in front of her eyes as she stumbles forward. Barely a fraction of a second later his right hook punch smashes into the side of her head just below her ear sending her crashing into the door casing. She drops to the floor like a lead weight.

________________________________________________________________________

Creatures of the Night - Kiss

Searching in the darkness, running from the day   
Hiding from tomorrow, nothing left to say   
Victims of the moment, future deep in doubt   
Living in a whisper till we start to shout   
We're creatures of the night, we're creatures of the night   
  
Breathing in the madness, spitting out the lies   
Searching for an answer, keep your alibis   
Don't know where we're goin', just know where we've been   
Remember when the clock strikes twelve, the losers always win   
  
We're creatures of the night, we're creatures of the night   
  
Searching in the darkness, running from the day   
Hiding from tomorrow, nothing left to say   
Gathering up our courage, ready for the fight   
Howling in the shadows, till we start to bite   
  
We're creatures of the night, we're creatures of the night   
We're creatures of the night, we're creatures of the night 

________________________________________________________________________

Bad Company - Bad Company

Company Always on the run  
Destiny is the rising sun  
Oh I was born 6-gun in my hand   
Behind a gun I'll make my final stand  
That's why they call me   
  
Bad company   
And I can't deny  
Bad company   
Till the day I die   
Till the day I die  
Till the day I die  
  
Rebel souls   
Deserters we are called   
Chose a gun and threw away the sun  
Now these towns   
They all know our name 6-gun sound is our claim to fame  
I can hear them say   
  
Bad company   
And I won't deny  
Bad Bad company   
Till the day I die   
Till the day I die

  
  
Bad  
Bad company   
I can't deny   
Bad company   
Till the day I die  
And I say it's   
Bad company Oh Yeah---Yeah  
Bad company   
Till the day I die Oh Yeah   
  
Tell me that you are not a thief  
Oh But I am   
Bad Company   
It's the way I play   
Dirty for dirty  
Oh Somebody Double-crossed me   
Double-cross   
Double-cross  
  
Yeah   
We're Bad company   
Kill in cold blood


	2. Chap 2: Still the Same

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Chapter Two: Still the Same

Faith's eyes snap open as she gasps for breath. Her conscious mind clawing it's way out of the dream she had been drowning in. She could still feel the bodies pressed in around her. A mound of dead rotting corpses that stretched as far as she could see, piled so high they were as deep as any sea she had ever seen before. All of them were clawing at her, pulling her down, dragging her underneath their putrid, decaying flesh, wanting to keep her with them for all time. To make her their plaything.

Taking ragged breathes she attempts to calm her breathing while settling her racing heart. Closing her eyes she tries to push the dream as far from her mind as she possible can. She didn't know if that was suppose to be one of her slayer dreams, the kind that B was always going on about, or just an ordinary nightmare brought on from too much Jim Beam, not enough food, and no sleep.

As the caress of the cold, dead hands fade from her body she opens her eyes again. The soft touch of cotton over her skin replaces the sense of death forcing her to look down to see she's wearing a beige one piece cotton nightgown. Her left hand had been wrapped and bandaged while she had been unconscious. Moving her fingers she can tell whoever had bandaged her hand had taken the time to set the dislocated fingers. It was still sore but in a few hours it would be as good as new.

Rolling off the bed, somebody had left her on, she lands lightly on her feet in a crouch. Taking the room in at a glance she realizes she was in a bedroom, complete with a bed, a pair of chest high dressers, a large antique cherry wood armoire instead of a closet, and a couple of nightstands. Judging by the effects in plain sight Faith can tell the room belongs to a young woman. A woman that might only be a few years older then herself. As she takes a good look at the titles of a handful of books lining the headboard's cubby holes she comes to the realization that whoever the woman is she was definitely a lot smarter then herself.

Sitting on top of the headboard, within easy reach of the girl that normally slept in the bed was a Japanese ceremonial sword holder. A holder that was conspicuously missing its sword. A clear indication to Faith that whoever lived here didn't trust her.

Faith couldn't care less considering the last conscious thought going through her head before waking up here had been that she was dead. She had never thought she was going to wake back up again, or that if she did wake up she would be in chains designed to hold a slayer while she was smuggled back to England to face trail by the watchers council. In which case she would be executed so the next slayer could be called.

The door against the far wall opens spilling light into the room. A tall brunette, an inch or so taller then Faith herself, steps out of the room brushing her hair back. Her face was long, lean with a pointed chin. All of her features seemed to be too sharp with the exception of her large, round doe like brown eyes. Eyes that were soft, warm, but hard as well conveying a sense of having seen things few people could comprehend. Her slacks were a dark blue bordering on black contrasting sharply with the tan blouse that hung loosely over her upper body.

Her eyes widen slightly upon seeing Faith, but otherwise she doesn't react at all as she strides from the door to her dresser while continuing to brush her thick chestnut hair. There was something about her that instantly put Faith in mind of Buffy. An almost superior, self-righteous air that they both project.

"The showers free if you feel like taking one," Kitty informs Faith without turning around. "There are clean towels in the cupboard on the far wall and I can set out some clothes for you. Should be about you size," she adds picking up the hair clip.

Her anger peaking at the haughty way the brunette was talking down to her Faith punches forward straight towards the back of Kitty's head. Only to stumble forward as her fist passes through her skull all the way up to her elbow, "what the fuck!" She shouts as she jumps back away from her with wide eyes. "What the fuck are you?" She tries again in slightly calmer voice.

She turns around to face Faith, "I'm Katherine Pryde. The person whose bed you were sleeping in, whose nightgown your wearing. In fact I'm probably one of only two people in the whole world right now that don't want your head for a trophy," Kitty informs Faith a great deal of anger flaring in her voice. She was extremely glad she had the foresight to take her black blade out of the room when Logan had shown up with the girl. It was one of the few things in the world that could touch her even while she was phasing.

Faith doesn't even blink at the news that everybody was after her. It wasn't new information to her. Everybody had always been after her so it wasn't like anything had changed suddenly. The girl standing in front of her though was definitely something she had never run across before, "you're a damn ghost is what you are."

Kitty smirks at her statement, "been called worse," she quips. "Logan's waiting for you," she tells Faith seriously. "So shower first, don't. It doesn't really matter," she says heading to the bedroom exit.

"What's to keep me here?" Faith asks her anger seething, barely contained below the surface. She wants to do nothing more then beat this arrogant, snobbish girl to within an inch of her life. The only thing stopping her was the fact she had already proven how futile that was. Her mind was still searching for some way to get her hands on the brunette. The question of how you're suppose beat something you can't touch running through her head.

Kitty looks back over her shoulder at the troubled teenager. She wants to do something to comfort her, to let her know the entire world wasn't out to get her. But she knew what unphasing around the angry teenager would mean to her health. She didn't doubt that she could kill Faith, if it came down to it, but actually beating her in fight was quite probably beyond her without resorting to killing her. She shakes her head slightly, "nothing's going to keep you here. Just don't expect Logan to let you get too far."

"So I am your prisoner," she states angrily.

Kitty shrugs sadly, "if it makes you feel better thinking that then go ahead," she says softly a moment before turning and walking through the bedroom door.

"She was here all right," Angel comments picking Faith's scent up all over Cordelia's apartment. He had managed to track the rouge slayer down to the loft of somebody she had put in the hospital nearly a week ago when he had gotten Wesley's rather frantic phone call. One of the few times he actually had the cellphone, Cordelia insisted he carry at all times, with him.

"Duh," Cordelia snipes. "Denis told us that much," she says sarcastically pointing at refrigerator magnets spelling out the word Faith. Only for some reason Denis had put an X directly after the rouge slayer's name. "What I want to know is why it took you a good two hours to show up, she could have just step out for a second. I could be dead right now because you..."

"I was watching the place she's been staying at," Angel replies taking Cordelia's slight outburst in stride. "Besides I don't think you have to worry about her coming back," he says entering the kitchen. "Someone else was here with her. A man, has a fondness for cheap cigars," points to the sandwich. "He was able to get the drop on her, not easy considering a slayer's heightened senses," while not on par with a vampires' senses, slayer senses easily surpassed what normal humans had, "their intuition." He adds as an after thought. Points to some scuff marks on the floor and the crack door casing, "they fought, brief or else their would have been more damage done."

"There's enough damage already. Why do you always point out how much worse it could be," Cordelia whines.

Wesley enters the front hall, "I think there's something outside you're going to want to see," he says breathlessly a moment before he heads back out doors.

"What is it?" Angel asks following after the ex-watcher.

"I did a circuit of the area around the apartment. To see if anything was amiss," he explains leading them into a vacant lot behind a nearby building.

As Angel came into the lot he picks up the man's scent again, faint as if the elements were trying to scour it away. Gunfire was thick in the air as well, and small traces of blood. Not as much as he would expect from someone getting shot. Towards the back of the lot was what appeared to be the shell of black van, leaning lower on the driver side as its back wheel: tire, rim, and drum had simple been cut in half making the vehicle impossible to drive. The roof was sitting at an odd angle as well as the back section had been cut open and several feet of steel were missing from its frame. Cautiously opening the van's back door, Angel can pick up other human scents as well. Their aromas were laced with fear as they scattered like quail before the man that had torn their van to shreds. There was blood here as well, more of it. Only nobody had died, at least not here.

"The cuts along the metal are smooth," Wesley says pointing out a fact Angel hadn't noticed as the smell of the blood had called to him, "suggesting they were made by something razor sharp and harder then reinforced steel."

Angel nods, "good catch," he congratulates Wesley as he looks around the van's interior. Recently it had been full of high tech surveillance equipment. But that had been turned into scrap. Still there was only one place that continually shoved their nose into his life that could afford a van like this. "Wolfram and Hart," he growls.

"Are you sure about that?" Wesley questions skeptically as he climbs into the van.

"Who else would send a rouge slayer after me?" Angel answers. "The guy that took Faith did this," he tells him after a second.

"So you're saying that there's a new player in the mix that we know nothing about?" He inquires looking around the van not feeling pleased with the turn of events. Having to deal with a rouge slayer was bad enough, throwing a wildcard into the mix on top of an evil law firm. He shudders slightly at the thought.

"We know he can take a slayer in a fight," Angel points out dryly. It was a comment that does little to comfort Wesley.

Faith decided to forgo the shower and had simply grabbed some clothes, sweats since the brunette didn't have anything that suited her taste. She had checked herself over in the mirror, there was a slight bruise on the side of her face just below her ear, and a darker discoloration on her ribs. It wasn't enough to be painful just a reminder to be on her guard around this man. The fact that he had beaten her, knocked her out in a matter of seconds irks her. She was the slayer, chosen warrior, yet he had kicked her ass and she hadn't even been able to touch him.

A slight smile slips over her lips as she imagines siccing the little runt out there on the little runt back in Sunnydale. She would love to see the look on B's pretty little face as he tore into her. Then again the good slayer didn't attack humans unless provoked. She could however provide the provocation, set the two them against each other. That was something she would actually pay to see.

Pulling open the door she gives a slight whistle at the spaciousness of the airy loft. It made the place the Mayor had set her up with in Sunnydale seem like a low rent tenement housing, with its high arched ceiling some twenty-five feet above the hardwood floor. Thick, intricately carved oak support columns that connected ceiling to floor, that were spaced evenly throughout the otherwise openness. Large windows stretched the length of the outside wall, with only small spaces of concrete interspersed for structural support. Faith wasn't sure what a place like this went for but she was fairly sure Mayor Wilkens would have been hard pressed to afford something like it.

From one moment to the next the room changes. The was no blurring, shifting, or anything else that would indicate the end of an illusion, or any kind of transportation. One moment it had been how she had seen it original. Now it was completely different.

It had shrunk from its sixty foot by forty foot rectangular box dimensions to the more modest, almost square dimensions of thirty by twenty-five feet. The ceiling was only fifteen feet above a dingy tiled flooring. Simple steel poles separated the ceiling from the floor. The large windows had been replaced with what was common on older factories that had been built some time after the end of world war two, row open row of smaller window pains making up a larger window frame. There was four such windows lining the concrete outer wall.

In the middle of the floor is a decent pallor area. Several sofa's, a few chairs, one even looked to be a recliner but she wasn't sure, a large coffee table in the center, and few end tables to pull everything together. Against the back wall was a large cabinet bookshelf combination. There were more books lining the shelves then she'd ever seen in one place outside of a library. She assumed there was a t.v., stereo, and VCR hidden behind the cabinet doors.

A sour grunt and the sound of something plastic hitting wood reminds Faith that she's not alone in the loft. The aroma of a cheap smelling cigar fills the air and she wonders how she could have missed it before. Spinning towards the sound she see almost exactly what she had expected to see.

Logan, the runt of a man that had knocked her out cold. He was sitting at a wooden round table, a shot glass in front of him along with an ice cold bottle Beck's. The same combination was set up across the table and a chair had been pulled out. There was a relatively thick manila folder open on the table in front of him along with something that looks like a large and extremely complex remote control. On the floor next to the table was a large cooler filled with ice, beer, and a fifth bottle of Jack Daniels.

Faith ignores everything but the man as she approaches the table, he had proved just how dangerous he was the first time they had fought. Now that his face wasn't half concealed by his cowboy hat she got her first good look at him. The only word she could find to describe him was feral, even sitting there in white muscle shirt and faded jeans with his bare feet propped up on another chair, there was something about him that would look more at home in a forest then surrounded by the modern hi tech world they lived in.

Most of his face, including his ears, was concealed by his thick sideburns. His black hair was swept back as if he spent a lot of time facing into the teeth of a gale force wind. His eyes were the darkest she had ever seen. They were like a pair of black holes that no light could escape from and with him sitting there staring at her she couldn't help but feel as if she had been stripped bare in front of him. Like there was nothing at all he couldn't tell about her with just one look of his intense gaze. It was not a feeling she liked and a scowl washes over her face in an attempt to intimidate him.

If her hard gaze effected him in any way it didn't show and she got the sudden feeling that he had seen things far worse in his life then one pissed off little girl. She could do something about that though. She could reach him in a heartbeat, have her hands around his throat before he knew she had moved.

She senses a change in him. He hadn't moved but somehow he was ready, anticipating. It was in his eyes, a burning light flaring to life as he waited for her to make her move. In that instant she knew that he knew what she had been planning.

Ripping her eyes from his she studies the rest of his body. His arms were as thick as most men's legs. Not with fat, but hard sculpted muscles. In fact his entire body looked like something that had been sculpted by a master artist. Everything that could have a muscle did, some times two. Somehow he managed to carry off the whole muscle bound look without looking muscle bound. Of course she had seen him move, albeit briefly, the other night and she knew he moved with the grace of a trained warrior, not the herky jerky motions body builders used when lumbering about.

"You gonna join me?" Logan growls lifting the bottle to his mouth.

Faith's glare intensifies with the sound of his voice. As if she was just going to sit around and drink with the man that had abducted her. With a sideways glance out the window she contemplates jumping to her freedom. Only problem being that she didn't know how high she was.

"Five stories," Logan comments seeing the shift in her eyes. "Fall probably kill most people, but you've already done a swan dive from higher then that haven't you," he says not asking just letting her know that he knew.

"What, you psychic?" She asks returning her glare to him full force.

Logan up ends the bottle taking a small pull. When he lowers it a slight grin turns the corner of his lip upwards. "You don't have to read minds to know what someone's thinking darling," he informs her before polishing of his beer.

"I happen to have a name and it ain't darling, cupcake..."

"Melissa."

One simple word stops Faith in her tracks. Nobody had called her that name in half a decade. Five years and she had thought she had buried Melissa in hole someplace. She was weak, a coward. She just lay on her back taking what her step-father gave her with barely a whimper escaping from her.

Faith was who she was now. She was strong. She was the one that was capable of doing whatever needed doing. Faith was who had survived on the streets of Boston from the time she was twelve. Faith was the hard edged girl her watcher had pulled off the streets a year and half later. It was Faith who had arrived in Sunnydale two years after that with Kakistos dogging her heels, and it was Faith who had ran from Sunnydale little more then a week ago when Buffy managed to get her body back.

Her eyes dart to the table, to the open folder sitting on top of it. There was a small stack of high quality photographs of her held to one side with a paper clip, there were a couple older photos, from when she had lived with him, paper clipped to the bottom of the page. On the other side was her rap sheet from Boston. She had no doubt her entire life was contained within the papers underneath.

Her eyes shoot upwards as she takes several threatening steps closer to him. Her voice was hard enough to smash boulders to powder as she demands, "what the hell do you want with me." For a moment she almost thinks she can see compassion in his dark, feral eyes.

"Douglas is dead," he informs her in a flat unemotional growl. Just someone passing along a bit of useless information, "gutted like a fish in an alley. Cops never found who did it but I reckon you don't care to much about that?"

Faith ignores the words that slam into her with the force of a wrecking ball. For so long she had wished that she could see the bastard just one more time so she could teach him what true fear is. She had looked for him after she was called but he had disappeared by then. Now she knows why and in a way she feels as if somebody has robbed her of something. "What do you want?"

"Originally, track you down and dump you in a shield holding cell and wash my hands of the entire thing," he tells her reaching into the cooler and pulling himself out another bottle of beer. He puts the cheap cigar in his mouth puffing on the end bringing it back to life, "you really should sit down. Enjoy the beer since this is gonna take awhile," he says twisting off the top and tossing it into the cooler.

Faith continues to glare at him from the other side of the table. She didn't like the man. There was something about him that just rubbed her the wrong way. Something that was challenging her. Snarling, snapping, straining to break the tight reign she was barely holding on with the skin of her fingernails. It was similar to how she felt around vampires and other types of demons. Only it was completely different.

It was more then that though. It was in his dark, ancient seeming eyes, they way they seemed to stare right through her without the slightest flicker, like they had gazed upon people like her a thousand times over and he was unimpressed with what he saw now. Weighing her, judging her, deciding her fate.

It was in his worn and weathered face. It screamed at her of a man who had traveled one long hard road after another. Of getting knocked down, beaten time and time again yet getting back up, brushing himself off, and hurling himself back into the fray each and every time.

The realization of that being what she hates about him dawns on her slowly. For no other reason then the simple fact that he kept getting back up, that no matter how much life screws him over he wouldn't give up. That he would never take the easy road to get what he wanted if it meant compromising himself. "Why should I do a damn thing you say?"

Logan shrugs trying to keep the beast within caged. It was hard being around her, being around someone nearly as primal as himself. He takes a deep drag off his cigar hoping the nicotine will take the edge off, even if its just for a moment. "Not a reason in the world."

"Then why don't I just kick your ass and walk out the door?" Her anger sizzles along her voice as she asks her question.

"You could always try," he answers just managing to keep the edge out of his voice for the moment, but he knew it wouldn't last for long. "Course nothing says its gonna end any differently then before and I'd rather you didn't force me to put my beer down. Just might make me irritable," he warns her in a deathly quiet voice.

"You really think you can take me?" The young slayer demands as her anger reaches another level.

"Done it once already," he points out as his voice drops another octave.

Faith takes another step forward as she responds, "last time I wasn't ready for you."

Logan knocks the chair over rising to his feet as Faith moves. "Think that's gonna make any difference?"

"Why don't we find out?" Faith responds tossing the table out from between them an instant before she lunges at him.

Lindsey steps out of the elevator and into the concrete substructure, the parking garage, like always, was light from above by rows of high wattage fluorescent. He walks towards his car without concern of being attack. After all he was still on Wolfram and Hart property, under their protection, so to speak.

There were other things on his mind more important then the thought of imminent attack. Faith had disappeared. The surveillance team had been, disabled was too kind of a word considering what they looked like. Torn apart would come closer even though none of them had died. Whoever, or whatever had taken them out did a remarkable job of missing anything vital. Which meant whoever they were dealing with was either very sloppy and didn't know where the kill shots were, or he was very skilled and decided not to kill.

What irked him the most, even more then possibly getting played, was the fact that not one photo, not even a decent eyewitness sketch of the man existed. An entire team of highly trained operatives, supposedly the best in the world, and not one of them got a decent look at the man. A man that can tear a bullet proof, steel reinforced van apart with his barehands.

He knew several men, including the target himself, who could accomplish that feat, which brought the question to light as to weather this entire thing had been a set up from the start. If it turned out that they had been manipulated like a bunch of rank amateurs then it didn't bode well for any of them. Faith had obviously known who Angel was so they had some kind of history together. Was it possible that the two of them had been working together. It wasn't Angel's style though, to subtle. He was a more in your face kind of problem.

Turning around with a small sigh he faces the tall, dark clad, and often brooding souled vampire. "Really got to do something about security in this place," he says to himself as he smiles at Angel. "Office hours are from eight to five, if you come back in the morning I'll be sure to see that you get all the assistance that you need," he says politely.

"Faith," Angel says from where he's standing with an ice cold voice.

The corner of his lips quirk upwards, "isn't that something you should be discussing with your priest." He pauses bringing his hand to his mouth, "right," he says pointing at Angel, "last priest you had a conversation with expired from an acute loss of blood."

"Ha ha," Angel laughs taking a menacing step forward. "Very amusing. Now where is she and who was the man that took her?"

"You know," Lindsey begins making small hand gestures as he talks. "I really wish I could help you out, but I have absolutely no idea..."

Angel moves to quickly for Lindsey to see more then a blur as the vampire grabs him by the throat shoving him hard against the wall. He hated dealing with Lindsey. The slick cooperate lawyer was one of those rear humans that didn't react in the slightest way when he was lying to your face. There wasn't the even the minutest change in body temperature, respiration, or heart rate, not even a twitch in his eye. Almost everyone had some type of tell, something that would give away the fact they were lying. Most had more then one, but Lindsey didn't have any.

"...What you're talking about," he finishes choking out his statement.

"Really. How come I find that hard to believe?"

"Because you're cynical," Lindsey answers despite Angels tightening grip.

"Let me clear things up for you," Angel says lifting him off the ground. "You, or someone else within Wolfram and Hart hired Faith to kill me. Sent her at me like a guided missile."

"I can assure you nobody at Wolfram and Hart would ever engage in that kind of illegal not to mention highly immoral act," he says trying to pry Angel's fingers from around his throat.

"I'm going to find her eventually," Angel hisses softly. "And when I do I'm going to learn the truth. Then I'm going to come back and we'll have ourselves a long conversation about what kind of activities, immoral and illegal, Wolfram and Hart is engaged in."

Letting go of Lindsey he takes a step back as the lawyer's heel hit the ground. Lindsey's hands instantly go to his tie and shirt collar loosening both so he can take a deeper breath. After a moment he says, "you go ahead and do that Angel." Bending down to pick up his briefcase he continues, "let me know when you finally find Faith." Looking up he adds to the empty garage, "I really hate that guy." But he did have the answer to one of his questions.

Blood drips from a gash on the right side of her chin, a split cracks her lower lip spilling more blood, and a jagged cut stretches from her hair line to just above her jaw barely missing the corner of her left eye. Heaving herself up to her feet Faith glares at the body lying in a pool of blood. "You're dead," She groans clutching her pain filled side with a hand covered in blood, most of which was her own from knuckles busted open pounding on his hard head.

This time he was dead, he had to be. She had made sure of that. A steak knife through the heart, a crushed wind pipe meant he was dead. There was nothing that could survive that.

Staggering she turns around her eyes grazing over the remains of the demolished loft. Nothing was left intact. Not one stick of furniture, not one post, not the walls, the windows, or even the kitchen cabinets and cupboards had survived the destruction the two of them had rained down upon each other.

Only problem was that every fifteen minutes or so everything changes. Rooms so vast, so varied that they had nothing in common with each other. More then just rooms or even whole houses.

Once it had turned into a dense tropical forest straight out of some forgotten age. Roars from creatures that haven't walked the planet for thousands, if not million of years filled the air. She had used that time to evade Logan, give herself a respite from the savage little man. They had already been tearing each other apart for nearly an hour by that point.

The man was like the damn energizer rabbit, only worse. He didn't stop despite her having put him down several times. He just kept coming. Most of the time without so much as a scratch showing for all her effort. Each she hit him was like slamming her fist into a steel plate. A steel plate that counter punched with the force of a miniature wrecking ball.

Faith manages to make it halfway to the door limping slightly. Her left leg still numb from a punch to a nerve cluster there. She stops hearing a grunt from behind her. A second later a bloody steak knife skitters across the floor past her feet. "Think you forgot something," his gruff voice says from behind her.

She turns her head to look back over her left shoulder. There he was rising to his feet again, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. A dark bruise around his throat was quickly fading. The hole in his chest closing before her very eyes.

Faith's head drops as she wonders what she is going to have to do to put him down for good. She had gutted him once. That had barely slowed him down for several minutes. She had tried, and failed, to snap his neck, only winding up with a pair of bruised, if not busted, ribs for her trouble. After spending ninety minutes beating on his face and body she was beginning to realize his bones, if not unbreakable, were so close it didn't matter. "What the fuck are you?"

Logan rips the remains of his blood soaked tank top from his torso. He was slightly impressed with the fact she was still on her feet. There weren't too many people that didn't have his healing factor that could have taken the beating she had and still stay standing. Cap and Spidey being among the rare few. It didn't matter the girl needed to learn this lesson. "Told you if you made me put my beer down I'd get irritable," he growls.

The room changes again in the blink of an eye. Gone is the debris from the broken loft. In its wake a city like Faith has only seen on television. Two, three, even four story rundown wooden structures packed tightly against glittering glass and steel skyscrapers.

Along with the city a cacophony of sensations, sounds, and smells bombard her, nearly drowning her in their sudden unexpected arrival. People press all around her jostling her to get by shouting curses at her in a language she doesn't recognize. Cars speed down the narrow streets avoiding people on bicycles, or mopeds by no more of a margin then the skin on her teeth. Horns and bells; blare and honk, jingle and jangle, beep and buzz as everyone struggles to move ever forward.

Smiling she looks up at Logan. She could lose herself in a city like this. At least for the quarter of an hour that whatever magic was used to transform the loft into this changes everything once again. It would give her the time she needed to rest, to catch her breath. Using the last of her reserves she takes off at a deed run away from Logan, shoving people out of her way, confident in her ability to out run any human alive.

Kitty steps into the laboratory alert for the slightest danger, her body hovering on the threshold of phasing. Something was wrong with the picture before her. There was suppose to be a major equipment test going on right now. The lab should be light up as bright as noon. It should be packed with students and staff going over everything with a fine tooth comb making sure it was all ready and primed for the upcoming test.

Only nobody was here. The lights were out. The machines were shut down. It screamed at her. Set up. Trap. A smile slips across her lips. This was exactly what she had been waiting for.

After stumbling upon a string of mysterious disappearances that didn't add up she had done some investigating. What she had discovered were five students, all with I.Q.'s ranging from one seventy-five to two hundred and ten, that had vanished without a trace. The only other thing that they all had in common with each other was the fact they were all studding under Professor Seidel.

Kitty had debated with herself for several long days about what she should do. It was obvious to her what was going on, but there was no real proof. Without any evidence there was no way she could get the authorities to listen to her and she refused to go to her former teammates.

She had left that life behind in pursuit of another way to make Xavier's dream a reality. She couldn't just go running back to them now, with this. They would have help, she knew that, but this was something she needed to handle on her own.

After coming to her decision it was easy for her to transfer from her current Civil Rights major into Physics. She already had an impressive transcript from her time at Xavier's and NYU. Professor Seidel had lept at the opportunity to have her as part of his team. Her expertise in computers, programming, electronics, and her natural grasps of physics in general made her a catch he could hardly throw back.

For whatever reason she had become too big of a threat to him. Now it was her turn to disappear like all the other girls. It was too bad for him that she wasn't like all the other girls. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she kicked his ass after whatever he had planned didn't work.

"Professor Seidel," she calls out deciding it was time to spring his trap.

At the sound of her voice ancient Latin pours out of speakers placed around the room. A blue vortex swirls to life behind her. This was definitely not part of any trap she had been expecting him to spring. A gun, chloroform, a drive out into the middle of the desert, dropping her in a vat of acid. Those were the kind of things she had been expecting to deal with, not blue interdimensional vortexes. She can feel it pulling at her. Phasing she hopes will stop the force it exerts on her body.

It doesn't.

The vortex closes as if it had never been there. It had disturbed nothing else. Except for the one young girl it had sucked through it's maw.

________________________________________________________________________

Still the Same - Bob Seger

You always won, everytime you placed a bet   
You're still damn good, no one's gotten to you yet   
Everytime they were sure they had you caught   
You were quicker than they thought   
You'd just turn your back and walk   
You always said, the cards would never do you wrong   
The trick you said was never piay the game too long   
A gambler's share, the only risk that you would take   
The only loss you could forsake   
The only bluff you couldn't fake   
  
And you're still the same   
I caught up with you yesterday   
Moving game to game   
No one standing in your way   
Turning on the charm   
Long enough to get you by   
You're still the same   
You still aim high   
  
There you stood, everybody watched you play   
I just turned and walked away   
I had nothing left to say   
  
'Cause you're still the same   
You're still the same   
Moving game to game   
Some thlngs never change   
You're still the same 


	3. Chap 3: Say Goodbye to Hollywood

__

Chapter Three: Say Goodbye to Hollywood

Kitty groans as she slowly comes awake. The soft grass making a comfortable bed under her as the wind cools her skin from the heat of the sun. Opening her eyes she stares into the sun filled sky. Blinking slightly as they come into focus she slowly realizes she's not seeing double, but that there actually are two suns shining brightly in the sky overhead.

Standing up she turns her attention to her more immediate surroundings. The air was breathable, despite the fact it smelled off. Kitty breathes a deep sigh of relief as she turns in a slow circle taking in the scenery; thick bole but stunted trees, brown grass, a few large rocks jutting out of the ground. Nothing overly different from what she was used to back on Earth.

Except for the y shaped sticks planted in the ground with small animal skins drying under the bright suns. That was something she might see in a primitive culture. "Don't even get a tour maps anymore," she grumbles softly as she looks around. "Oh well guess one directions just as good as another," she says starting off. Her only hope for surviving for an extended period of time was finding some kind of settlement. That and praying whoever lived here was friendly towards humans. The thought of having to take on an alien race by herself was not a very pleasing one.

She hopes Logan would be able to track her down. He knew everything that she had pieced together so far, and didn't think he would have too much trouble getting Professor Siedel to tell him what had taken place. Logan was not the kind of person the good Professor was going to enjoy having conversation with. Unfortunately she couldn't count on Logan coming to her rescue any time soon, or even landing anywhere near where she had come out. It was going to have to be up to her to find a way back home.

Faith slashes diagonally downward at Logan as she turns around. It was a slow clumsy stroke of the blade she was wielding, but it was the best she could manage. She had tried losing him through the streets and back alleys of Tokyo, but that had proven impossible as he stayed a bare step behind her.

Weather it was really Tokyo or just some kind of ultra sophisticated illusion she still couldn't tell. People had reacted to her as she had pushed her way past them just as people always reacted to being pushed and jostled out of the way. With curses and threats, all of which were shouted at her in Japanese so she couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. Their gestures, not to mention their tone of voice, had been quite clear though and had left Faith with little doubt as to what they would do to her if they got their hands on her. Not that she was really worried about them. Her real problem was the man who dogged her heels with the tenacity of a rabid bloodhound.

Every time she looked over her shoulder he was there. Never more then a dozen paces away from her, sometimes close enough she thought he could just reach out and touch her if he wanted to. Even when she didn't look she thought she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck.

She had never faced anybody like him before. Even when Kakistos had been chasing her from one side of America to the other she hadn't felt anything close to this level of despair welling up in her chest. At least with the ancient vampire there had been pauses, breaks in the chase, where she could catch her breath.

With Logan it was relentless, he wouldn't stop, he didn't stay dead when she killed him. He just got back up and came after her again and again as fresh as when they started. Each time he inflicted damage, not much, or a lot of it at any one time, but as the fight dragged on and on it began to add up.

She had been pushing herself all out for nearly two hours now, and was beginning to flag under the intense pace he was forcing her to maintain. She could feel it, with a certainty she had never felt anything before that this was it. That this was the end for her.

She wasn't going to go down without leaving some type of impression on him though. If nothing else she was going to make sure he knew that he had been in a fight before everything was said and done.

Recovering her balance as he comes back up she stabs ahead with the razor sharp katana she had found upon ducking into the dojo. There's a sharp hissing sound of metal sliding against metal as Logan raises his arm, adamatium claws deflecting the sword she had in her hands. His other hand draws back and Faith watches in horror as second set of claws spring from the back of that hand as well.

Time seems to slow down for Faith. It was over, she knew that. Even if she somehow managed to avoid this strike there would only be another, and another, and another, until he finally managed to kill her. Maybe it would be better this way, she wonders as her eyelids slide close as he fist flashes towards her. An end to all the running, the pain, the misery that was her life. She could finally be at peace.

Cordelia flips through another accident report. She was nowhere near as good as Willow when it came to computers, but with the redhead talking her through the process she had managed to hack her way into several different hospital databases. It was far easier gathering information this way then calling up the hospitals and requesting the data she wanted. This way she just cut out the asking part to browse through it at her leisure.

Right now she was looking for anybody admitted for sever unexplained injuries in the past six hours. The computer was programmed for words such as stab, cut, laceration. So far she had gone through nearly sixty cases involving such acts, but all of those had very mundane causes; car accident, fatal stabbing, sever lacerations from falling down twelve foot gorge.

On the other side of her desk Wesley was conducting his own search, looking for the man who had presumably abducted Faith, and destroyed the surveillance van outside her apartment. He was going through old watchers dairies claiming there was something about the entire incident that smacked of familiarity to him. Cordelia would like to have smack him with something. Here she was, eyes getting cramping from staring at a computer screen for hours on end, while he got to read through some of his little black books. The entire situation screams of workplace discrimination to the young, still hopeful starlet.

"What are you trying to find in those," she finally complains out loud. "Angel told us the person that took Faith was human, totally, hundred percent human."

Wesley doesn't bother to look up as he replies, "Angel also told us that the man had been shot several times yet bled very little. That kind of healing prowess may also lend itself to an extended life, plus there was something oddly familiar with how the van was disabled."

"You mean the fact somebody hacked off the tire?"

"Um-hum, only it wasn't so much hacked off as it was sliced into four separate pieces. Ah-ah!" He exclaims triumphantly. "I knew it was in here. Gertrud Stein, killed nineteen forty-three, Berlin Germany. Cause of death three unexplained punctures to her back, piercing her heart and lungs, wounds exited the front of her chest. Death was believed to be instantaneous."

"She was a slayer?" The brunette asks peeking over the desk at the book Wesley was currently reading.

The ex-watcher nods his head, " her watcher is the main reason why all watchers since then are strictly English. Although the council didn't know it the time Gertrud's watcher, Henriech Rompol was working closely with Hitler's Nazi party and the Third Reich. He had Gertrud trained from a very young age to follow Hitler's anti-Semite believes. As she neared the appropriate age to be called the Third Reich began having slayer's assassinated, each time one was called within a few weeks she was dead. Struck down by a sniper's bullet. Something slayers still have no defense against. Once she was called in nineteen thirty-seven she began her work as Hitler's personal assassin. She eliminated anything and anyone that stood in the way of Hitler's rise to power with a cool efficiency."

"Wait a minute, I thought slayer's were all suppose to be like forces of goodness protecting all of us normal folk from," she gestures around herself, "creatures that want to make us their snack food?"

Wesley shakes his head, "you above all people should know how erroneous a belief that is after watching Faith's decent into darkness. Slayers are human, with human weaknesses. They can be fooled, and or manipulated just like anyone," he says sadly.

The door opens to a very disgruntle Angel who enters with a simple question of, "anything?"

"Wesley was just telling me a fascinating story of how Hitler's personal slayer was whacked by the guy who stole Faith. So I'm more then willing to let this guy keep her if he was a thing for killing off evil slayers. More power to him," she answers flippantly.

Angel ignores Cordelia's brutal remark from after he picked out the part of Wesley having information. "What do you have?"

"Not much actually," Wesley apologizes. "Just the details of a rouge slayer's death in Berlin during the height of World War Two," he says handing the book over to Angel.

Angel takes the book skimming it quickly, "stabbed through the back. Died instantly, no signs of a struggle. Could definitely be our guy," he says giving Wesley a hearty clap on the back that nearly knocks him over as he adds a heartfelt, "good work."

"I take it you didn't get anything out of Wolfram and Hart," Wesley comments after a moment.

Angel only nods as he scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair, "she was working for them though. I can feel it in my bones," he says sitting down on the edge of Cordelia desk. "Follow up on that, see if you can find anything more recent. Try to put a name, or better yet a face to the man that can kill a slayer before she even knows she's in danger."

Just then the glass door opens again as Buffy pushes the door inward, "hey guys," she greets everyone in a her usual fake happy voice. When she speaks again her voice has lost it friendly edge as it turns hard, "heard you got problems with a rouge slayer."

__

I'm not dead, the thought bubbles through Faith's head.

She can feel the cool steel on each side of her throat as clearly as she can feel Logan's knuckles pressed just under her chin. She doesn't want to open her eyes, thinking that he's waiting for her to do exactly that before releasing his middle, his killing claw, into her throat. "You ready to start acting like an adult?" His gruff voice demands from only a foot in front of her. She doesn't say anything, only stands there pinned to the rough wooden beam as she tries to regain control of her racing heart and starving lungs. "Or would you rather we keep on the way we've been keeping on? Doesn't much matter to me as I can keep this pace up for days. What about you Faith, how long before your done?" She can feel his hard eyes looking her over, "not long from the look of you."

Faith jumps as the sound of his metallic claws screams in her ears. It takes her a moment to realize his claws have retracted back into his forearms. The only reason she comes to that conclusion is because the pressure his hand had been applying to the front of her throat is suddenly gone, as is the cool metal that had been on both side of her throat. Opening her eyes she sees Logan a few feet away picking up what looks like the remote control that had been on the table when this entire fracas had started.

She felt cheated. For a moment, when she had thought it was all over, there had been such a sense of peace filling her she had felt relieved that it was all over. Now that the immediate danger was past that feeling was gone and she could feel her anger, her rage at the world, her disgust at herself seep back into the core of her being. She glares at his back as he fiddles with the delicate piece of electronics in his hands. It was all his fault. "What? That's it? You're not even going to finish the job?" She screams at him ignoring the pain in her ribs, not to mention, the rest of her body.

"I don't kill without cause," Logan growls in his normal gruff voice.

"No you just beat the shit out of people," She snarls back.

Logan tosses the remote to the floor with a hoarse grunt of, "Kitty'll have to patch it up," before turning around to face her. Looking her over he says, "told you once there was an easy and a hard way we could do things. You keep choosing hard. And before you go getting all idingnant about the beating you just took. Remember one thing," he says pointing a thick finger at her, "you're the one that kept going for the kill."

Faith tries to match his stony eye glare with one equally as hard. She can't. He was right. If it weren't for his incredible regenerative powers the man would have been dead a dozen times over. All the while he had possessed the means to kill her whenever he chose to, yet he didn't.

Her mind continues to come back to why. If he hadn't killed her it was because he wanted something from her. Either that or he needs her for one reason or another. "What do you want?"

"Aside from getting out of here? A shower and a fresh set of clothes. You know the kind not soaked in my own blood," he answers in a light gruff knowing it wasn't the answer to the question she had asked.

"What do you want from me?" She specifies with a tight growl.

"Like I told earlier, not a damn thing."

"Then why are you doing this? Why are acting like you give a shit about me? Why not just kill me and get it over with?" She yells at him fighting the urge to break down.

His eyes soften slightly as he gazes at her. The young girl before him remained standing by nothing more then her own determination not to fall in front of him. She reminded him so much off himself just after Mac and Heather first found him. More then anybody else he had met since then. All fiery rage and burning pain at nothing tangible, but more then willing to unleash it at the world in general.

Unlike Faith there had been people ready, willing, and most importantly, determined to harness him, shape him, mold him into a very focused weapon that could be directed at their enemies. A nearly unstoppable killing machine that they could control.

Until somebody with a dream came along and offered him a way out. Not that he had seen it as such at the time. Back then Xavier had been nothing more then a way to get from under the red tape and rigmarole that he had been trapped within working for the Canadian Government. It had been a crap shoot and he had gotten lucky.

"A long time ago somebody took a chance on me. Offered me a way off a bad road I was on, showed me a better way to do things. I wouldn't be much of a man if I didn't honor that obligation and repay that debt, now would I?" He says softly knowing she could hear him.

Without taking his eyes off her he reaches out, his hand grabbing hold of nothing that she can see. He twist his wrist and pushes open a door that hadn't been there. Faith blinks as she sees the room she first woke up in, "what the?" She breathes out in stunned amazement.

Logan shakes his head as he says, "don't understand it much myself. Think Star Trek. Solid light photons, force fields, and things I don't even pretend to understand," he answers her. "Showers through there. Go and clean up. You look like road kill."

Faith waits a moment as Logan walks away from the open door. Staggering forward she never takes her eyes off him. She wanted to believe him. On some level she did, or wanted to so badly she thought she did. She couldn't allow herself to believe him though. What he said, while it seemed all nice and hokey on the surface, just didn't mesh with how people really were. Nobody ever went out of their way to help somebody they didn't know just because they felt obligated to, or because it was the right thing to do. It was something you would expect somebody out of an old John Wayne movie to sprout. Or maybe something a Samurai or a Buddhist would go on about.

Still there was that part of her that wanted to believe him. "Logan," she calls out to him as she reaches the door.

Logan looks up locking eyes with Faith. He knew what she wanted to say just as he knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to say it. "Go on take your shower," he tells her taking the pressure off her. She ducks her head relieved that he had shooed her off and steps inside the bedroom.

"So who the hell are you?" Faith asks Logan as she strides quickly down the sidewalk struggling to keep pace with the short man. He had changed into clothes similar to what he had been wearing the first time they had met; worn cowboy boots, denim jeans, flannel shirt, rawhide jacket and gloves, and his tan ten gallon hat.

"Just a man," Logan replies simply.

They had been outside Kitty's loft for nearly five minutes and that had been the first thing she had said since leaving the room. The clothes she was wearing now were easily identifiable as something that had come out of his Kitty's wardrobe. It almost looked as if Faith had stolen the clothes off an Indian Princess. Wide, dark purple silk pants that swished when she walked, a light airy magenta top with a blue satin sash tied around her waist. The only thing that spoiled the effect was the white tennis shoes she was wearing. She had grumbled about the outfit, but at the same time said it was the only thing wearable she could find. It was obvious that her and Kitty's taste in clothing would never mesh.

"A man with foot long metal claws inside his forearms," Faith comments dryly. "Just a man doesn't even begin to cover it. Like what's your name? You know mine so its only fair that I should know yours."

"You already know it," he tells her a moment before cutting across her heading into a small dinner. Faith quickly turns to fellow him as he adds in a harsh growl, "much as anyone else knows."

She slides into the booth across from him, "amnesia or something?"

Logan grunts, "or something."

"So what can I get for you two," Lynn, according to her name badge, a tall, thin middle aged woman with her graying hair pinned up in a bun, asks them.

"Large steak, still mooing if you got it, double order of fried scallops, pair of backed potatoes, side order of fries and onion rings, tossed salad, a large slice of that pecan pie, and an extra large black coffee," Logan answers without looking at the menu. "Second thought, double it."

Lynn blinks several times as Logan runs down his list, then stares wide eye when he finishes. "Sure thing honey," she stammers. "I'll be right back..."

"Hey!" Faith snarls at the waitress, "you forget about me or something?"

She blinks at Faith even more startled, "I thought that was for both of you's. I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you," She apologizes seeing the anger simmering in Faith's eyes.

"Yeah well," Faith begins not sure what to do. She wanted to beat the crap out of the woman, only she had apologized to her. Something people never did to her.

"Easy there darling," Logan's voice sounds almost in her ear as he talks to her. "Lady made an honest mistake. No harm done, no foul committed."

"So, what can I get you hon?" She asks Faith with a genuine smile.

Faith blinks unsure what to get. She decides to follow the simplest option available to her. "I'll have the same thing," She tells Lynn smiling as the woman's mouth drops open at her order. "Only an extra large coke, and the chocolate cake."

The waitress blinks several times before she says in a numb voice, "I'll be right back with your drinks."

"That's a bit of food you ordered there," Logan comments as he tosses his pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table. "You got a hollow leg or something I don't know about?"

"Naw," Faith says lighting a cigarette. "Slaying, or what we did tonight leaves me all wound up. Eating helps take the edge off, a little. What I could really go for is a good hard screw. That'd really help me unwind. What about you?"

Logan lights a cigarette of his own inhaling deeply before he says, "nothing helps."

Faith nods slightly gaining a slight understanding to his almost abrupt nature. If he was wound half as tightly as she was after a good hard fight she was impressed with the restraint he showed. "What're we doing here? Aside from terrorizing little old ladies."

"Meeting Kitty."

"What for?"

Faith was finding it hard to believe she was sitting here with who she was sitting here with. That she had actually fought him. Had even managed to hurt him, kill him if only for a bare handful of seconds. She felt kind of stupid that she hadn't recognized who he was when he had unsheathed his claws. They were after all his trade mark, his calling card that everybody knew about.

With as close to New York as Boston was she had spent her young life idolizing the heroes that made the big apple their home. She had spent every day wishing that she too, would one day possess superpowers. That she would be able to make a difference in the world.

At nearly fifteen when she had been called it was a lifelong dream come true. That there was truly some higher being out there granting wishes. Finding out that it was her destiny to defend the world from vampires, demons, and other evil creatures had been the greatest day of her life.

Within a few days though she had felt reality's vicious bite. She had foolishly believed that with her powers life would somehow become easier for her when in fact the exact opposite seemed to happen. All of her decisions suddenly felt like they held the fate of the entire world. Her mistakes were amplified in a harsh, blinding light. Everything she did, or touch seemed to go wrong, or turn rotten.

Then all of it had spiraled out of control and she suddenly found herself trying to ride out a maelstrom with nothing to cling to. It had all started with the death of her watcher. A death at the hands of a master vampire that she had been unable to prevent. A death that sent her running to Sunnydale, where for a short time she suddenly found herself back on dry land. It was a place she had been able to get her bearings, catch her breath. A place she had thought she had created a true bond with her fellow slayer.

Then came the night everything fell apart for good. The night she found out exactly where she stood with Buffy. The night they had killed Finch and Buffy had tried to hoist all the blame off on her. She had thought she had found dry land but all she had been doing was keeping her balance on a hunk of dirt in the middle of her whirlpool.

A whirlpool that returned with a vengeance dragging her under with a speed that was blinding to behold. She had been drowning, reaching out for anything to grab hold of. Only instead of keeping her head above water the Mayor had sucked her under even faster. Everything from that point on had flashed by her in blurry haze.

Until this moment.

Sitting across the room from one of her childhood icons. She finally felt like her head had broken through to the surface. As if for the first time in years she could take a moment to do nothing more then catch her breath. At least she had finally stopped starring at him as if he was wearing a red cape and had a big old S plastered across his chest.

The fact that he was who he said he was didn't make Faith trust him anymore. Just because Logan happened to be Wolverine didn't change the fact that he was still using her for something.

Faith had been silent as Logan had detailed the disappearances that Kitty was currently investigating at UCLA. While Logan talked the two of them devoured a meal that would leave half a dozen large men loosening belts and leaning back in chairs as they prepared themselves for the nap their bodies were telling them they needed to take. He had explained Kitty's suspicions that the physics professor, some guy named Siedel, was responsible for nearly half a dozen women suddenly disappearing from within the physics department. Unfortunately there was no evidence to be found.

Her premise was simple. They had all been smarter then him so he had to get rid of them. Personally she could think of worse reasons to kill someone. She had killed for some just as dumb. Licking the grease from her fingers she says, "so she went undercover to get the proof to hang the bastard."

"That's gist of it," Logan replies lighting a cigar.

"So what do you need me for?" She asks suspiciously. The large meal had done wonders for own regenerative abilities. She could practically feel her body putting itself right.

"I just need to keep an eye on you till I get the all clear," he says puffing lightly on his cigar.

Faith looks at Logan crossly. She was a big girl, and a slayer to boot. She didn't need anybody watching after her. "The all clear about what?"

Logan gives a slight shrug, "don't know. Fury didn't give me many details, more of a find her, keep an eye on her kind of job," he says mildly amused with her reaction.

"So when'd you decide an abduction was the best way to keep an eye on me?" She inquires a low growl in her words.

"Just after I had a conversation with the surveillance team Wolfram and Hart had on you," he says checking his watch. He didn't need the time piece but it was nice to have confirmation.

"What?" Faith nearly gasps. She hadn't know anyone was following her.

Logan stands up ignoring her startled exclamation. "Kitty should've been here by now," he tells her tossing two bills on the table. Faith rises to her feet as the bills land barely containing another startled gasp as she recognizes two hundred dollar bills sitting on the table.

Cordelia gasp as a wild flourish of images assail her mind, running roughshod through her head. Images of pain, anger, rage. Faith, only not dressed like Faith, battered and bruised leaning back cockily. A short savage man terrorizes a balding middle aged one. Superimposed over everything was the face of a girl who wasn't there.

As quickly as the vision started it comes to an abrupt end and she feels herself being lowered into her cushioned chair. "If I ever get my hands on Doyle I'm going to kill him myself," she groans as she clutches her head.

"You okay?" Buffy inquires her concern clearly evident in her voice.

Cordelia looks up slightly surprised to see it was Buffy that had caught and not Angel. "Yeah sure," she replies sarcastically. "Nothing like a skull splitting migraine bursting through your head to say my day can't get any better then this."

"What'd you see?" Angel asks tersely.

"Wow, gee. Not even a, gosh Cordy would you like a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water to help ease the pain."

"Here you go," Wesley says as he steps back in from Angel's office carrying a glass of water and a bottle of Advil.

"I sent Wesley to get them," Angel replies lightly offended as Cordelia takes the proffered objects.

"Oh," she says slightly abashed. "They're at UCLA," she tells them as she downs a handful of pills and washes them down with half a glass of water in a single gulp. Catching her breath she adds, "Faith and some other guy, they were torturing some old professor like guy. You should probably hurry."

"I'm with you," Buffy tells Angel.

Professor Siedel crashes into the steel gray cabinet. The solid tin gives almost as easily as his bones under the force of the impact. Logan lets loose a low animalistic growl as grabs hold of the lip of the heavy oak desk. With an almost negligent heave he tosses the large piece of furniture away. It flips end over end several times before crashing into a wall.

Faith whistles, slightly impressed by the display of raw strength. The desk had to have weighed a good two hundred pounds, minimum, and to him it was almost like tossing a chair aside. Then again Faith already knew the guy was strong. There wasn't a normal human alive that could bruise a slayer skin, let alone crack a rib from a single blow. Of course there weren't any normal humans whose skeleton's had an unbreakable metal grafted to them.

Logan grabs hold of the Siedel's shirt. Hauling the taller man off his feet the feral mutant handles him like he was a rag doll. He slams him into the wall and Faith thinks she can hear another bone in the professor's body brake. "Where is she?" He snarls in an almost intelligible voice.

"Who?" The professor manages to stammer.

Faith almost winces as Logan slams him into the wall once again, only harder. "Katherine Pryde. The girl that came in here just before you and never left. You didn't kill her so that means you sent her somewhere. The fact she still might be alive and you're the only one who knows where she is, is the only thing keeping you in one piece."

"Why should I tell you anything?" The professor demands in a small voice. Faith had to give the man credit for the balls he was showing, if not much for his intelligence. "If you're just going to kill me?" From everything she had seen, read, or heard Wolverine was not the kind of person you wanted to make mad, and when he was enraged you didn't want to make him madder.

The little man growls from deep in his chest. It puts Faith in mind of a starving dog, saliva dripping from it's jowls, head and shoulders low as it prepares to fight to the death over a tiny scrape of meat. "If you don't tell me, I'll make you beg me to kill you before I'm done," he says in a soft hiss almost too quite for Faith to hear.

The raven hair slayer could only imagine the look on Logan's face as he made his threat. Judging from the way the color vanished from Siedel's face she was glad she couldn't. The professor suddenly couldn't say enough about where he had sent Kitty and a handful of other students just because they were all smarter then he was. Within ten minutes they had the book and the location of the next spot the portal could be opened at. A bar by the name of Caritas.

Faith watches the professor whimpering on the floor as Logan walks past her. She takes a step towards Siedel only to stop as Logan grabs hold of her forearm. "Leave him," he orders.

"You're going to let him live?" Faith asks disgusted by the simple thought of the piece of crap sitting in front of her continuing to breath the same air that she does.

"I still need him alive," Logan informs her sharply.

"Why? He's told you what you wanted," she demands turning sideways so she can see both of them.

"Exactly," he agrees with her as he lets go of her arm. "He's told me what I wanted, who knows if he's told me the truth even if he believes it to be true."

"So what, he gets a free pass?"

Logan looks at Siedel fighting the urge to slice him into small pieces. "She wants to kill you," he tells him as if he hadn't just heard the conversation taking place around him. "If you're not in prison for the abduction of each girl you've sent into an alternate dimension by the time we get back. I'll let her."

Wesley helps Cordelia back into her chair as he asks her, with concern tinting his voice, "another vision?"

The brunette stares at him indignantly. "What gave it away, my gasping in pain or collapsing to the floor?" She inquires bitterly. It was quickly approaching the point where she would give her right arm to be rid of the damn things.

"I'm sorry if that came out sounding insensitive," Wesley apologizes. "I'll go fetch you a glass of water," he says stonily. His eyes however betray the hurt he feels at her sharp retort.

"Thank You, and I'm sorry," she manages to say without swallowing her tongue.

Wesley brushes the comment aside with a simple, "think nothing of it," remark as he steps into the other office.

Cordelia fumes silently for a moment. Here she had gone out of her way to say she was sorry and he acted like it meant nothing. Picking up the telephone handset she punches in the speed code for Angel's cellphone. "Hello," Buffy terse yet chipper voice greets Cordelia. "Angel was having problems finding the talk button, so you got Buffy."

She sighs heavily, once again very thankful to be out of Sunnydale. She would rather have to deal with mega visions the rest of her life then spend another hour listening to Buffy, its my destiny to save the world so everybody has to do what I say, Summers. Better know as the Slayer, or more aptly referred to as the Bitch. "Let me talk to Angel," she says sweetly not wanting to anger someone who could rip her in two with as much effort as it would take her to open a letter. At least not without a good reason.

"You have some new info?" Angel asks sounding pleased.

"Had. As in another vision," she answers.

"So soon?" He questions concerning tracing his voice.

Ignoring his question she says, "you can forget about the collage. Their going to be at a demon bar called Caritas..."

"You and Wesley check it out," Angel tells her. "We just got to the campus..."

"I don't think you heard me," she burst in. "Demon bar. Human. Two things that do not go together."

"We're too far away to reach it before them," Angel pleads.

Cordelia shakes her head, "unless there's someone watching my cute little backside, someone that can handle a few dozen angry demons. There isn't anything that you can give me that will make me go within a ten block radius of..."

"You want somebody to protect you?" Buffy cuts in.

Cordelia snarls silently, but keeps it out of her voice as she says, "preferably you or Angel, but anybody that'll keep me alive will do."

"There's someone close by," Buffy replies. "The same person that drove me to L.A. Plus I can guarantee he can't hurt you," she finishes confidently.

"I'm not going to a demon bar with Xander," she replies coldly.

"It's Spike," Buffy says softly.

"Spike!" Cordelia shouts into the phone. From the other end she can hear Angel echo her sentiment just as loudly.

"He's got a chip in his head," Buffy says quickly and Cordelia isn't sure if she speaking to her or Angel. "It prevents him from hurting humans, but he can still fight demons. He helps me out from time to time."

Cordelia ponders that for a moment before coming to her decision, "your positive he can't hurt humans?"

"Even thinking about it gives him a migraine," Buffy answers. Cordelia almost thought she heard regret in her voice. "Anything more then that and his head just about explodes."

"But he can still fight demons, right?" She inquires hopefully.

"Tear them apart," Buffy confirms. In the background she can hear Angel complaining about her bringing Spike around him. "Only thing is you have to pay him."

"Don't worry. Angel's picking up the tab," Cordelia answers. "So, where is he?"

Spike crushes out the burnt out stub of a cigarette as whoever had been pounding on his door took the beat up again. It wouldn't have been bad if they had any talent what so ever, but seeing how they didn't, he rolls off the bed and crosses the small room in two quick strides. He pulls open the door with a vicious jerk. Seeing Wesley, the other watcher the slayer had gotten fired, standing on the other side- a cross in one hand and a cocked and loaded crossbow in the other- looking as petrified as he'd ever seen a human look. "Sod off," he tells his fellow Englishman before slamming the door in his face.

"We have money," comes his hesitant reply.

Spike pulls the door open. After all there was no fun in insulting someone if you didn't have the satisfaction of seeing their face. "Sorry mate, don't swing that way, but if you're a smart lad you might be able to land a few extra pounds in your paycheck." The look of pure shock on his face was positively priceless as far as Spike was concerned. The only thing that would have made the moment even more perfect for the bleached blonde vampire was if the great poofter of grandsire himself had been there.

Cordelia had no idea what Spike had just said, it was too British. She steps forward brushing past Wesley as she slaps two hundred dollars onto his bare, toned, and delicious looking chest. "For you to protect us," she informs him.

Spike smirks as he takes the money out of her hand. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Caritas was packed despite it being the middle of the week. A Fleiri'sch demon, a sickly looking four foot tall, ten limbed creature whose round body was a swirling mixture of light browns and lime green that sometimes ran together forming colors no eye should ever have to gaze upon, was on the stage at the moment. He stood on six legs, each ending in a sharp six inch spear like point. His other four limbs ended in razor edged pincers. His mouth, the only vulnerable part of the creature, was located on the underside of his hard shelled body and was filled with row upon row of jagged flesh tearing teeth.

Despite his appearance the creature was doing a spectacular rendition of Joan Jett's I Love Rock and Roll. Granted his natural singing voice was a high pitched wail that sounded like boulders being ground to dust in grinder, but considering what his species normally sounded like it was comparable to listening to Aretha Franklin.

As the creature finishes his number anybody looking at the host would see the tear in his eyes. Weather that was because he found his voice so beautiful or because he felt like he just got off the rack was anybody's guess. Clapping diligently Lorne makes his way towards the stage. "Okay everyone. Big round of applause for, Ssslyynxthxl," he exhorts the crowd causing the scattered clapping to become a raucous cheer. "There truly are not words to describe just how much I was moved," he mumbles under the applause. "Next up," he begins as the door at the top of the stairs opens.

A deathly hush falls over the club as the door closes behind the two humans at the top of the stairs. Lorne watches as intrigued as everyone else as the couple descends the stairs. Aside from the tennis shoes, the girl was dressed like the woman from the far east. Her clothing was all light, loose, and airy. She looked a little pale but nothing a few days in the sun wouldn't be able to fix. The man looked like a North Dakota ranch hand, with his cowboy hat and boots, denim jeans, and rawhide jacket and gloves. Smoke drifted from the smoldering end of his cigar as he steps into the club proper.

The girl looked itchy, like she couldn't wait for a fight despite the fact her face said she just finished one doozy of a tussle. She was looking around the club as if she was sizing up the patrons. Judging who was the toughest creature in the building.

Her companion was the exact opposite. He acted as if there was nothing unusual about the patrons. Almost like he had been in a million places far worse then what was in this bar. The girl hesitated a moment before trailing him to the bar giving each demon she passed a closer inspection.

Lorne comes back to himself with a start. "Right," he picks up a little flustered. "Lets give it up for Earl who's going to give us a knock 'em dead rendition of Van Halen's eighty-four classic Hot For Teacher," he enthuses as he steps from the stage and the music picks up.

"My skin's itching so much it feels like it's on fire," Faith complains as she sits down at the bar next to Logan. "I don't think I've ever been around a quarter of this many demons and not been fighting for my life."

"Keep a handle on it," he growls lowly as the bar tender makes his way over to them. "Two glasses and a bottle of your best whiskey," he says and waits for him to move on before turning his attention back to Faith. "Now's not a good time to be starting anything," he advises her in gruff whisper.

Faith gives him a light smirk, "not scared of a few demons are you?"

Logan pins her to the floor with a withering glare as the bar tender returns filling the two glasses. Without taking his eyes off Faith Logan says, "leave the bottle." As the bar tender walks off Faith still finds herself pinned to the spot under his black eye gaze. "Let me just make one thing clear for you. I've been in battles from end of this universe to the other, walked on more worlds then you can even imagine. I've been to the very edge of time, stood against an entity so powerful that he could have been god himself. Waged an assault on the very heart of hell for the soul of a friend. Killed more men, demons, and aliens then your likely to see in a hundred lives. All of that without batting an eye," he says before downing his shot of whiskey. He allows the moment to drag on for a few seconds to let what he just said sink in. "Each and every time there was fear. Anybody that tells you any different is either a liar or a fool. The trick is, control it. Make it work for you, not the other way around."

"That's advice easier said then followed ain't it sweet cheeks?" Lorne inquires as he walks up to the pair. "Not often I get a pair of humans in here," he comments a second before taking a sip of his light pink sea breeze.

Faith takes a look at him and winces at the brightness of his blue suit, jacket and pants. At the way it goes with his red silk shirt and purple tie. Turning away from the green skin demon Faith picks up her shot of whiskey and drains it in a single gulp.

Logan refills his shot glass. Picking it up he turns around to face Lorne, "we're looking for a portal to Pylea," he stops noticing how the color fades from Lorne's face. "We hear you're the man to see," he finishes in a voice that could be considered threatening. He knocks the shot back, slowly savouring the taste of whiskey in his mouth.

Kitty slowly approaches the ragged looking group of dirty and disheveled humans. Some were gesturing and pointing at her like they weren't sure she was real. As if she was some kind of mirage. Some were standing around leaning on wooden tipped spears, others had short swords on their hips, and heavy looking daggers. Everyone she could see was dressed in the same type of animal hides. Just like she had thought they might be when she had seen the hides tanning in the sun back where she had first woken up.

She had spotted their camp from the shady tree she spent the hottest part of the day in. Spotted the smoke from their fires. Not knowing what to expect, and having no better prospects available to her at the moment, she had taken a chance and trekked her way across the baking hot ground.

As she nears the camp she begins to pick up parts of conversations. Even more interesting she can understand what they're saying. Things like: "Look at how she's dressed." "Where did she come from?" "She's not wearing a collar." "How did she get this far out?"

She smiles broadly as she hears English being spoken, but she would have smiled just as broadly hearing any of the two dozen human languages she knows how to speak. As she closes in on the camp she see the guards tensing, making ready just in case she turns out to be a threat. Keeping her hands easily visible she stops just at the edge of their camp. "I'm not here to cause trouble," she says in a loud clear voice a little dry from not having anything to drink all day. "I got lost in the wilderness and the..."

"Sucked through a portal is what you mean," a snide voice says from out of the jumbled mass of people. The crowd parts for a gangly man, with a gray flecked beard, and in his mid forties. He walks up to her with an appraising gaze. Stopping in front of her of says, "lucky for you there wasn't a trapper there else they woulda had you in a collar."

"You mean this?" She asks tossing the metal collar on the ground. The people gasp as they seemingly take a step back and lean in closer at the same time. A rippling murmur takes up through the crowd.

"Where'd you get that?" The man standing in front of her asks in a hard voice.

"I took it of the man that had tried to put around my neck," she snarls back. She had disliked doing what she had to do an order to get away from the man and his tracking beast. The man would live, once he got his foot out of the boulder she had trapped it in. The animal on the other hand would never draw breath again. It had been able to track her nearly as well as Logan, and would have eventually run her to ground, which left her with one option. Phase it into an object and leave it there. She had hated doing it, especially to a mindless creature just doing what he had been trained to do, but she would have hate having a collar around her neck even more.

Blue streaks of lightening streak through the air in short burst for a moment as a vortex opens up above the town square. The towns people quickly rush to get away from the opening even though they didn't have anything to worry about as a body appears in the center of the portal. An instant later the vortex closes as if it had never been there and the man plummets twenty feet to the ground below.

Logan hits with enough force to crack the hard stones he lands on. Groggily he shakes his head as his body quickly repairs the damage the fall had caused. A quick taste of the air and he knows he's not alone. There are humans around him, smelling of fear and resignation. The scent of demons though sets his fire burning, not that it had a far way to go after being in a bar filled with them.

In Caritas though there had been an air of passivity around them. Now there wasn't. Springing to his feet Logan quickly scans the crowd, humans were backing away, while the demons were falling to around him with weapons ready in hand. There was a confident air around about them, as if they didn't expect any trouble from one little human.

Faith was nowhere to be seen, or smelt even though she had been standing right next to him. The book was gone as well, but both of those were concerns for later. Right now he had enough to be worry him.

"You want me?" He growls at them his claws springing from their sheathes inside his forearms released by nothing more then a single thought. Their now familiar grating, loud in his ears, as metal slides along metal. He can smell their hesitation, the fear that suddenly seeps into their scent along with their stiffening resolve. "Then come and get me," he roars savagely as he plunges into the nearest group of demons burying the claws of his left hand in the chest of one as his slash at another slices open his gut. Recovering quickly they charge the lone human hoping to bury him with sheer numbers.

The loose dirt gives way under the heels of Faith's sneakers as she stumbles out of the portal. Her arms pin wheeling wildly she reaches out for anything nearby to grab hold of only there's nothing. She tumbles backward expecting to hit the ground any time but the only thing she comes in contact with is more air.

In desperation she manages to twist in the air bringing herself closer to the face of the bluff the portal had deposited her on. Her fingers come in contact with a small rock outcropping and she latches on with everything she has hoping and praying for all she was worth that the damn thing would hold. She had just found somebody willing to help her get her life back. More importantly she finally wanted to get her life back and she wasn't about to give that up for anything.

Weather there was somebody listening to her or not she doesn't know but the jagged edge of rock holds. It cuts into her fingers, slicking the rocks with her blood, and her shoulder feels as if she dislocated the joint, but the ledge held. Dangling by one arm she looks down at what was below her, and breathes out a relieved sigh as she scans the rock face. A foot more and the face curved into the side of the hill which would have made catching hold of anything impossible. It also made the thought of climbing down an equally unappealing one. A fifty foot drop onto hard rocks probably wasn't any worse then falling from her pent house into the back of a moving truck, but she was in no hurry to spend another eight months in a coma just so she could judge the two.

Looking back up she decides it was a much better idea to climb ten feet up then try and climb fifty down. With a slight grunt of pain she swings her left arm up to grab hold another piece of rock thankful that while the top might have been sandy there was plenty of hand holds on the side of the cliff face. She was also thankful she had spent so much time back in Boston climbing the rock faces so she could dive into the ponds below. It gave her a little bit of knowledge of what to look for here.

She took her time as she made her way back up the cliff face, haste in rock climbing often led to disaster. She checks each handhold before giving it more then a fraction of her height and even then she applies it gingerly to make sure she didn't misjudged. Always ready with the other hand just in case she had.

Despite the fact that she was slayer, and was hardly coming close to exerting herself she was sweating quite a bit. The mental pressure of not making any mistakes was worse then anything she could remember doing before.

Half a foot from the top was her undoing. The outcropping looked as safe as any she taken before and none of those had broke on her. Plus she was grabbing hold with her uninjured left arm.

A gust of wind kicked up blowing the loose pack dirt from the top over the edge and directly into her face. Sealing her eyes tightly she was able to keep most of the grit from blowing into her eyes. Once the wind dies down she reaches up with her right hand to scrub at her eyes having forgotten she never checked her left hand hold.

Before she can react it breaks away from the face completely. Without warning she topples over backward. "Fuck you!" She screams at the top of her lungs as she plummets downward. Unaware that she still holds on to the piece of ledge that was her undoing.

Fred had heard the hoarse scream, that sounded like an American curse, the same as she had heard the portal opening almost ten minutes before it. She knew it wouldn't take long for the hunters to get here, a day, maybe two. She knew if she didn't hurry it was possible they would be able to pick up her scent. She didn't want to leave her cave though. It had been her home since she had first escaped captivity just over three years ago. She didn't want to go back to being a slave, or worst yet having her head chopped off because she had escaped.

But she couldn't just leave the dark hair girl lying there. Somehow she was still alive. She had seen her struggling to move. It was nothing more then her arms or legs flopping about. Having fallen sixty feet, landing on the hard, flat rocks less then twenty feet from her cave, and still being able to move at all was saying something profound about the young girl.

Scrambling out from the safety of her cave Fred quickly reaches her. There wasn't nearly as much blood as she had thought there was going to be. Placing her fingers on girl's neck Fred tries to check for a pulse. Faith's eyes snap open at the soft touch and with a surge of strength she grabs hold of the strange brunette's forearm.

Fred had tried to jump away when the injured girl's dark eyes had suddenly snapped open with as much life burning within them as she had ever seen in a person before. Somehow the girl had latched onto her left arm with a bloody steel like grip that Fred didn't think she could break even if she were to try. There was just something in those hard eyes that compelled her to stay where she was as the girl worked her jaw.

Faith hated this. Hated being weak, in trouble, in need of someone's help. It was part of the reason she had spiraled out of control in Sunnydale. Needing help but being unable to ask for it. She would rather chew her arm off then say those two little words. To admit that she couldn't do everything on her own. That at times even she needed help. Swallowing whatever pride she had left she manages to force the words out of her throat. "Help me?" It comes out sounding hoarse and weak and small and so many other things that a man that used and abused her for most of her young life had driven into her head that she would always be. Things she had promised herself she was never going to be again even if it kills her.

Only the girl above doesn't seem to hear any of that as she nods her head. There was sadness and concern in her face. Her face was wet but she wasn't sweating, and it wasn't raining so that could only mean she was crying. Faith wonders what she could be crying for. It couldn't be over her. Nobody had ever cried over her before.

__

Buffy had though, her mind whispers to her as everything begins to fade out, _when she had put eight inches of steel through my gut_.

Buffy had cried then. Faith could clearly remember seeing them standing out stark against her cheeks as she had looked down upon her golden counterpart. She chuckles softly as her eyes close. She couldn't help it. She found the thought kind of amusing. That Buffy should cry for her then, after stabbing her instead of any other time they had known each other.

__

Then again I never gave Buffy any reason to cry for me.

________________________________________________________________________

Say Goodbye to Hollywood - Billy Joel

Bobby's driving through the city tonight-  
Through the lights-  
In a hot new rent-a-car.  
He joins the lover in his heavy machine-  
It's a scene down on Sunset Boulevard.  
  
Say goodbye to Hollywood  
Say goodbye my baby.  
Say goodbye to Hollywood,  
Say goodbye my baby.  
  
Johnny's taking care of things for awhile-  
And his style is so right for troubadors.  
They got him sitting with his back to the door  
Now he won't be my fast gun anymore.  
  
Moving on is a chance that you take every time you try to stay together.  
Say a word out of line and you find that the friends you had are gone-  
Forever...forever.  
  
So many faces in and out of my life,  
Some will last, some will just be now and then.  
Life is a series of hellos and good-byes-  
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.  
  
Say goodbye to Hollywood  
Say goodbye my baby.  
Say goodbye to Hollywood,  
Say goodbye my baby.  
  
  
Moving on is a chance that you take every time you try to stay together.  
Say a word out of line and you find that the friends you had are gone-  
Forever...forever.  
  
So many faces in and out of my life,  
Some will last, some will just be now and then.  
Life is a series of hellos and good-byes-  
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.  
  
Say goodbye to Hollywood  
Say goodbye my baby.  
Say goodbye to Hollywood,  
Say goodbye my baby.


	4. Chap 4: Land of Confusion

__

Chapter Four: Land of Confusion

The large, black convertible pulls up to the dingy curb. Angel continues to shoot scathing glares at the tiny blonde sitting in the passenger seat. It was a glare he had been hitting her with ever since he found out she brought Spike to Los Angeles knowing the younger vampire would still be able to hurt him.

"What?" Buffy demands as Angel turns the car off. The looks Angel was giving her along with the silent treatment was becoming just a little tiresome.

Angel pops open the driver side door and slams it close behind him. "What?" He asks back standing by the door.

"You," Buffy replies, "acting like a five year old because someone kicked sand in your face."

"What did you expect?" He asks as Buffy hops out of his car while he walks around the front. "Me to be all happy about Spike being in town. Last time he was here he had me tortured for a good ten hours."

"He's got a chip in his head that stops him from hurting humans," she explains patiently.

"Isn't going to stop him from taking a swing at me," he complains.

Buffy sighs slightly with a small shake of her head. "Did you really think that I wouldn't think of that?" She inquires in a huff causing him to glance at her questionably. "When I paid Spike to drive me up here I specified for him not to attack you. He said he'd stay as far away from you as possible."

"And you trust him?"

She gives Angel a small shrug, "he usually keeps his end of the deal." Angel looks at her skeptically, "all right. As long as he feels like keeping them, but since you're paying him now you can set the terms."

"What terms? As soon as we meet up with Cordy and Wes, Spike is on his way," Angel replies irritably.

The turn the corner into the alley and come to a stop seeing two humanoid looking demons dead just inside the mouth of the alley. "You sure about that?" She asks appreciative of Spike's handiwork.

Angel stares at the bodies for another few seconds before saying in a completely unconvincing voice, "I'm sure Wes took one of them."

"Right," Buffy breathes out slowly as she gives the two large bodies another look. "Broken necks good indication neither one of them suffered from Wesley boring them to death."

Cordelia sighs loudly as Spike begins another song by someone named Ramone, or something like it, to a huge round of applause from the audience. She could just about strangle the Host for ever coming around and asking if any of them wanted to try their voice at singing a little karaoke. It wasn't that Spike had bad voice, in fact she thought he had a extremely good one when she could understand the words which wasn't very often when he was singing songs like; I Wanna Be Sedated, Pinhead, Blitzkrieg Bop, Beat the Brat, The KKK Took My Baby Away, and We're A Happy Family.

Of course she would also love to strangle Buffy for ever suggesting they bring Spike along for their protection. As it turns out Caritas is protected from violence by some kind of magic shield. Inside of which no demon can harm anyone. She didn't understand it completely, but so long as it works she didn't really care.

Spike, however, like he normally did, found a way around that one as well after one patron began heckling the highly inebriated vampire. He had simple dragged the demon in question outside. It wasn't like he was being violent. At least not while he was inside the club. Once he got into the back alley the young woman could only imagine what had taken place.

Then there had been the demon that had gotten up on stage during his absence. Spike hadn't been pleased discovering that and soon a second demon was joining the first and neither of them had been seen since. After that point nobody said anything to Spike about hogging the mic, not even the Host who seems to be constantly wiping his eyes for some reason.

What Cordelia didn't understand was why all the other demons didn't follow Spike outside and stake him. Or drag him out like he did with the other two. It couldn't be because they were afraid of the vampire. As vampires went she could think of a few she found more terrifying.

Drusilla, Angelus, The Master they would all rank up there in the terrifying factor. Spike was more the straight ahead I'm going to kill you type. The scariest part about that was he usually did.

"How much longer before the wonder twins get here?" She asks Wesley who is still glancing around the bar nervously.

Wesley blinks slightly as her sudden question surprises him out of whatever he was thinking about. "Oh... Um, I imagine they should be showing up any moment now. Angel sounded quite harried about something the last time I talked to him. He wouldn't say what it was."

"Couldn't have anything to do boy wonder up there?" Wesley gives the young woman a questioning look and Cordelia fills him on what happened the last time Spike and Angel had a run in with each other. "Spike was in town a few months ago. Captured Angel, tortured him for the ring of Amara and came up empty. I doubt if he was a very happy camper when he left, and Angel was about as grumpy as I've ever seen him, except for that whole Angelus phase he went through a couple years ago."

A round of loud applause begin as Spike comes to the end of his latest song. Cordelia expects him to go off into another thrashing punk rock song, but instead he sits down on the stool looking sad, morose. His head drooping slightly and his shoulders slumping downwards. It was not a pose she was use to seeing on Spike.

Slowly he raises the microphone up to his mouth. "None of you blokes are gonna believe this. Think old Spike is here trying to pull the wool over your eyes, though why I'd do that instead of just ripping them out of your skulls is beyond me," he stops lifting his bottle of Southern Comfort to his lips taking a long pull.

With the amount of alcohol the vampire had drank Cordelia wouldn't have thought him capable of doing even the simplest things let alone forming complex sentences.

He looks back up smiling that cocky, arrogant smirk he usually has when he sees something no one else does. "I almost got myself hitched," he tells the crowd to a smattering of jeers and catcalls. Suddenly he storms back to his feet knocking the stool over, his face a thunderstorm of anger as he points a hard finger into the crowd. "Hey I'm telling a bloody story here, a soddin tragedy like none of you's have ever heard before so the lot of you shove off."

Cordelia lowers her head slightly. This was just what she needed to make her night complete. Spike telling stories of his lost love Drusilla.

Prowling the edge of the stage menacingly he watches the crowd just waiting for somebody to say anything. After a few tense moments his anger seems to lesson as his body loosen up. He still walks back and forth across the stage, only now there was a slight bounce in his step.

"It was the most magical night of my life. It was like a spell had fallen over us. She was a brilliant light sent down to burn me to ashes, but for her softest kiss I would risk all for the briefest taste of her heavenly flavor. And me, I'm suppose to be death to her kind. Made my name killing others like her, draining them dry as any desert, but never did I consider tasting her sweet nectar," he smirks lightly as he adds as an after thought, "well not her blood anyway."

Cordelia perks up while Spike is speaking. This wasn't what she had been expecting from him. She had thought he was going to go into some gruesome story where him and Drusilla had eviscerated half a dozen people. With a quick glance at Wesley she notices that he too is caught up in Spikes narration.

"We had the entire occasion planned out. Flowers, caterers, decorators, the bloody chapel, were the pictures were going to be taken. Every little detail right down to what our first song was going to be," he finishes and almost on cue the music begins.

Cordelia recognizes the opening strains being played and unless Drusilla was crazier then she thought Spike was definitely talking about somebody else. Her mind begins working on who the vampire could have been talking about. Someone he had made his name on killing. Someone who was suppose to kill him. Suddenly her eyes light up as it all falls into place. "Buffy," she whispers quietly.

It was loud enough for Wesley to hear her but just then Spike crystal clear voice rose up and there was no time for talking as the club went deathly quite.

Ohhhh, oh, oh, oh, ohhh.  
It must have been cold there in my shadow,  
to never have sunlight on your face.  
You were content to let me shine, that's your way.  
You always walked a step behind.  
  
So I was the one with all the glory,  
while you were the one with all the strain.  
A beautiful face without a name for so long.  
A beautiful smile to hide the pain.  


Buffy slows as she walks down the stairs into Caritas. She manages to wipe the rising horror off her face as the lyrics Spike is singing click in her head. The sound of his clear tenor had almost abolished the memory of what this particular song represents.

"That almost sounds like Spike," Angel mutters in confusion between steps. "Wonder what song that is? It doesn't sound like anything Spike would listen to."

"Wind Beneath My Wings," Buffy answers absently just before she adds, "it was suppose to be our first dance."

Angel gives her questioning look as he asks, "How'd he find out you wanted it for our first dance?"

Buffy's cheeks color brightly as she brushes past him without saying a word. She steps through the metal detector, which goes off with a quiet alarm that can't be heard by the patrons inside the club over the noise. A round steel pipe appears, almost out of thin air, right in front of her halting her progress.

"Sorry mam," Ka'rl; the tall, thick bodied, orange scaled demon holding the metal bar says to Buffy.

Angel winces as he asks, "you didn't just call her mam?"

Ka'rl ignores Angel's remark as he continues. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to empty out you purse and your pockets. We have a strict no weapons policy inside Caritas."

"You don't recognize me do you?" Buffy inquires with a bit of relief and annoyance.

He shakes his head slightly, though for him it was more like a whole torso shake, "can't say as I do mam."

"It's because I work out of Sunnydale and I don't get up to L A that often. See I'm Buffy the vampire slayer," she tells Ka'rl modestly

His face seems to crack into a smile, she thought it was a smile anyway, as he responds with, "sorry cupcake. Slayer was already in here. Her and some short runt about your size. Cut my pipe in half with..."

Buffy grabs his thick arm with one hand jerking him forward, then latches on to his throat with her other hand and slams his back up against the wall. "I am Buffy. I am the vampire slayer. My favorite hobbies include; hanging out with my friends, shopping, and ripping the heads off demons that annoy me. Since the first two options aren't viable choices here what say we skip right to number three?"

"Viable?" Angel questions from just beyond her shoulder.

"SAT word," she answers Angel while keeping her eyes on Ka'rl.

"All right, fine. You're the slayer," he grumbles really hating the fact that his cousin had asked him to cover his shift tonight. The runt with the cowboy hat had been bad enough, but if it was possible he thought the blonde in front of him was worse yet. At least the guy didn't make lame jokes. "You can go in already," he urges hoping she'd let go of his throat.

"Not quite," Angel says stepping around Buffy. "This other slayer and the runt, what'd they want here?"

"I just work the door. You wanna know what goes on inside you gotta go talk to the host," Ka'rl tells Angel.

Buffy applies a little more pressure to his throat a moment before she demands, "the Host?"

"Lorne, green skin demon with a couple horns in his forehead. He's the one with the fruity concoction and the loud suit. You can't miss him."

"Thanks," Buffy responds letting go of his neck. Shooting him one last contemptuous glance she follows Angel into the club.

Just as she steps inside the song Spike was singing comes to stop and the bleach blonde vampire takes no time picking Buffy out. "Well there's the little would be missus," he slurs as he points at her. "that's the cruel bint who crushed my heart under her uncaring heel of her boot. That's my Slayer," he says with pride.

The crowd of Caritas had found Spike's heartfelt rendition of Wind Beneath My Wings to be so moving that at first they had been murmuring disdainfully, angrily as they gaze at Buffy. Then Spike said that one word which normally sends fear racing through the heart of any demon, especially when their stuck inside a demon violence free zone.

Slayer.

Their faces turn to a look of pure panic as chairs quickly scrape back. Liquor flies everywhere as tables are heaved aside. The demons make a hasty stampede as they rush the door and somehow manage to cram through without too much trouble.

Buffy sees the on rushing demons and scrunches herself up as they race past giving her a wide berth. Angel quickly jumps on to the bar as the demons stream by. Lorne stares with wide eyes at the mass exodus taking place in his bar. Spike, the cause of the stampede, was drunkenly trying to figure out where everyone was going in such a hurry.

"Bloody gits," Spike's voice booms through the room as he shouts into the microphone as the last demon rushes out the exit. "I'll scope your sodden intestines out with a dull spoon. The entire bleeding lot of yous," he adds tossing the microphone away for the last part as he attempts to jump of the stage, but instead winds up tripping on the raised lip and landing unceremoniously on his face.

Cordelia pokes her head out from the table her and Wesley had ducked under when the spooked demons broke and ran. "Is it over?" She hesitates to ask, but then adds with a bit more confidence, "or should I hide some more?"

"I'm pretty sure that its over," Angel answers hopping down from the bar. A small smile creasing his lips as he watches Spike pick himself up from the floor.

Cordelia rises to her feet with an indignant sounding, "good," as she strides towards Buffy.

A moment later Wesley crawls out saying, "yes. We're quite all right. No need for anybody to be concerned in the least. I had everything well in hand."

"Really?" Lorne begins in a questioning tone.

Before he can go any further Cordelia stops in front of the tiny slayer. "And you said he would be able to protect us," she says pointing an accusing finger at Spike.

"And he did. We saw the two demons outside," Buffy replies informing the tall brunette that they had seen the evidence of Spike's handiwork. "Unless you're going to try telling me you killed them?"

"He dragged them out of here," Cordelia tells her. After a moment she adds, "because they didn't like his singing."

"No great loss princess," Lorne comments as he raises his drink to his mouth. "Terrible hecklers, the pair of them," he adds taking a sip. "Place would be much better off without them. You know, if there were still customer's left to be entertained." Turning his attention to Angel he plaintively inquires, "what did you think you were doing bringing a slayer into a demon bar? And you," he starts turning towards Spike, "what were you thinking announcing it? At least the other lunatic had the sense to keep it to himself."

"Speaking of that other lunatic," Angel remarks taking a menacing step forward.

Lorne takes another sip of his colorful drink totally unconcerned by Angel's threatening posture. "The premises and the people on them are protected from the violence our kind causes sugar cube," he says confidently.

Angel smiles as he says, "violence our kind causes. Wouldn't effect a slayer," he says with mild warning. "Or I could just follow Spike's example."

Lorne sighs as he responds by saying, "let me guess. You want to know where they were going, how they were getting there, and what they had to drink while the were here?"

"Pretty much," Angel replies.

"Then that means you have to do something for me," Lorne answers. "Or you can lope my head off and I still won't say a word."

"What?" Buffy asks wanting to get out of here as fast as possible. Faith was still out there, somewhere and this man she was hooked up with didn't seem like the most calming influence on the rogue slayer.

"All of you up on the stage for one song," he answers almost glowing at the prospect.

"I'm gonna be sick," Spike mumbles from in front of the stage a moment before he retches violently on the floor the stands wobbly to his feet with a smirk just prior to collapsing to the floor.

"Okay. No stage and he doesn't have to sing," Lorne quickly amends.

Cordelia glances at Spike on the floor then back to Buffy asking the slayer, "you were really going to marry Spike?"

The one thing that Faith knew above anything else at this moment was that she was extremely irritated at constantly waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. This was the fourth time in the last few weeks that she was waking up with no clue were she was. First there had been the hospital, then Beef stick's dorm room, Kitty's freaky loft, and finally here.

Out of all of them the hospital had been the worst so far. The disorientation she had felt after eight months in a coma was beyond belief. She had felt like a scared little girl; lost, alone, trapped. She hadn't felt like that since she had ran away from home the last time. Ran from the brutality that had been her life up until that point.

Ran from Douglas.

After waking up she could feel time ticking away from her. Could feel the sand slipping through her fingers. Add to that the dreams, nightmares, she had been living with every single moment of the eight months she had lain in the coma. It wasn't any wonder why the first thing she had done was go after a little payback.

Right now her body hurt like nothing she's ever felt before. Faith didn't think there was a part of her body that wasn't screaming out in agony at the moment, but it was hard to tell with how much everything aches.

She feels a cold, wet piece of cloth placed on her forehead. Snapping her eyes open she looks up into a lean, mostly oval face of a large doe-eyed young woman with long stringy brown hair cascading around her shoulders. Her eyes like her hair were a light almost chestnut brown and covered by large pair of wire frame glasses.

"Hey there," Fred says when she sees Faith's dark brown eyes staring up at her. "Didn't expect you to wake up so soon... Course," she gives her thin shoulders a slight shrug, "didn't really expect you to be alive either. Not after a fall old rock face there." She dips the strip of torn cloth into the semi dirty water, then wrings it out. "You're healing real quick too, might even be able to travel by tomorrow." Her lips curve in to a light frown as she washes Faith's chin and neck. "How do you suppose that is. Most people that survive a fall like that need a half a year or more convalescing in a hospital, but you..."

"Slayer," Faith manages to murmur just loud enough to stop Fred in her verbal tracks.

The light haired brunette blinks at the word. "Is that suppose to be code for something, cause if it is I've never heard of it before. Not that I would have being stuck on Pylea for one thousand three hundred and seventy-seven days. Give or take half a..."

"Vampire slayer," Faith growls softly.

"Vampires are real?" Fred asks Faith who barely manages a slight nod. "I never would've... I mean I should've after all I never really, really thought there were other dimensions, worlds similar to our own. I'd hoped, dreamed... The statistical probability that human life could exist elsewhere outside of Earth, its staggering, but until I wound up here it all just seemed kind of far fetched if you know what I mean," she rushes on hurriedly. Looking down at Faith she smiles reassuringly. "It's kind of like something out of a comic book, or a science fiction movie..."

Faith allows her eyes to slip close fractionally and just lets the words wash over her. It had been a long time since she had heard a genuinely happy voice. Logan's had been gruff, almost angry sounding most of the time. She was determined to enjoy this while it lasts, because she already knows it wasn't going to last forever.

"For what reason has the alarm been raised?" Silas demands as he storms into the vast hall.

Barshon turns around to face his superior, worry clearly evident in his posture. "A cow has appeared in the middle of the village."

"So," Silas scoffs. "Cows always appear in the village. It is hardly cause for alarm."

"This one resist," Barshon informs Silas.

"Don't they all?"

"This one is winning," the red robe underling replies softly.

"What!" Silas exclaims in shock.

"He fights with the skill of are best warriors and the ferocity of a Drokken. The villages best warriors have already fallen before this undying cow. He doesn't seem to know how to kill them, but it is only a matter of time before he learns."

Silas pauses for a moment considering Barshon's words. "You called him undying. Why?"

"The village warriors have scored a score of hits, what would be mortal injuries for any other cow, yet he heals in only moments," Barshon replies.

Silas nods as he says, "send out Groosalug then gather the rest of the Covenant in the inner sanctum."

Logan deflects the sword thrust, sparks flaring as super dense adamatium strikes enchanted blades. He grins maniacally at the demon wielding the blade. A moment later his adamatium plated skull smashes into the demon's face causing him to stagger backwards. He figures their blades must have some kind of mystical enchantments on them since his claws didn't cut them to shreds, plus their industrial capabilities didn't appear to be advance enough to make anything of comparable strength to adamatium.

Normally he didn't like sticking his nose into other cultures politics or practices, but he really didn't like slavery either. Especially not when they tried to put a collar around his neck. Since most of the slaves happen to be residents of Earth, even if they are several generations removed, he figures today was as good a day as any to start a one mutant revolution.

It had been a long time since he's been able to cut loose like this. Even his fight with Faith he had been keeping a tight reign on himself.

Now that leash was gone. It was the first time in years and he was loving every single minute of it. Given a little time he would even figure out how to put these demons down for good. As it was he was still trimming their numbers down at a good clip. A third of them had already crawled away from the battle to injured to continue with the fast pace brawl.

In the back of his head he wonders if Faith is having as much fun as him. He suspects the raven hair beauty would enjoy this kind of scrape as much as he is. He hopes she's okay, he believes she is. If nothing else can be said about the girl she was a survivor.

What was weighing on his mind more then anything else at the moment though was his concern for Kitty's safety. The old man wonders at that. Logan knows Kitty is more then capable of taking care of herself, has probably already figured a way out of here by now and is back on Earth enjoying a cold brew, or the red wine she prefers when she feels like drinking, and laughing at his attempted rescue of her.

Logan scowls at the emotions he's feeling right now. The look on his face enough to cause the demon in front of him to freeze momentarily, enough time for Logan's claws to rip through his chest.

He had known Kitty for nearly half the girl's life. Most of that time they were teammates with the X-Men, fighting side by side to protect the world from the threat of the day. He could easily be ten times her senior.

When she had first joined the X-Men he had seen her as nothing more then a spoiled brat, but she had proven him wrong. Over the years she had become something of a disciple of his. He watched her grow into the season warrior she is today. In a lot of ways she had already surpassed him. It was what every teacher hopes for their students to do. She was a true warrior while he was still nothing more then a methodical killing machine.

A sword shatters on the back of his skull driving him to the ground. For an instant, while he springs back to his feet, he feels wet blood soak his scalp before the wound begins knitting itself back together.

Growling low in his chest, more at himself for allowing his thoughts to distract from the heat of battle, then at the demon. Logan whirls at his stunned adversary staring at the shattered blade in his hands.

Kitty wonders through the camp. Her movement almost looking aimless to her watchers. She had spent most of her time talking with the people. Getting a feel for their disposition. She had learnt that most had been born here on Pylea while less then a quarter of them had fallen through portals from Earth and a few other worlds.

Most of them, if given a chance to return home, or anyplace that wasn't here would jump at it. Or so they claimed while nothing had to be proven.

Now all she had to do was decide what she was going to do for them. She couldn't leave them here if they want off the planet. But how could she bring them to Earth. She couldn't just leave them to fend for themselves once they got there.

Earth didn't even openly acknowledge the other races that live in the same solar system. What would the reaction be to a group of displaced humans that had been living in a different dimension.

"Let me see that," Kitty says as she squats down in front of a small child, a thin gash running the length of his forearm, cutting him off. The thin stream of blood leaking from the wound wasn't dark red like normal human blood. It was more of light pinkish gray color.

The boy looks up at Kitty, his incandescent blue eyes full of irritation as he says, "why?" The game was going to continue and if he wasn't there then somebody else was going to get his spot on the team. Most of the other kids didn't like him that much, plus he didn't get the chance to play all that often since he was training most of the time so he didn't want to miss his chance.

"Because if we don't get this cleaned out it might get infected and not heal properly," she explains to the young preteen.

He looks up at her as if she had lost her mind, but then he realizes she was the new girl in the camp. "It's gonna heal in a couple hours anyway," he tells her. "None of my cuts ever get inf... Inf," he scowls angrily as he can't pronounce the word.

"Infected," she says enunciating each syllable.

"Infected," he mimics triumphantly.

Kitty smiles at the boys victorious grin, "better to be safe then sorry," she says. "I'm Kitty," she tells him as she leads him towards a pot of water set near a warming fire to keep it from cooling.

He looks back over his shoulder dejectedly as he says, "Scott."

"It's nice to meet you Scott," she says sitting him down on a rickety stool by the kettle. "I bet you're a really special young man," Kitty adds hoping to get him talking.

He shrugs lightly as he responds by saying, "that's what everyone says. That I'm going to be the strongest warrior in all of Pylea. Stronger then Groosalug even," he adds making it sound like a great accomplishment.

"That must be pretty strong," Kitty comments as she dips a clean cloth in the water.

"Don't you know anything," he demands irritably.

Kitty smiles pleasantly at him as she answers, "I'm new here." He looks up at her, still irritated but also slightly abashed as well. "How do you know you're going to be such a strong warrior. I thought they had to train for hours every single day?"

He looks down at the ground in shame as he mumbles, "its because my father is one of them."

Kitty's smile slips off her face as her temperament falls. The boy had been raised to feel ashamed of who he is. Nearly as bad, if not worse was that he was being raised as a weapon while he was still nothing more then a child. She had seen the results of that tactic more then once. As far as she was concerned there was nothing that could ever justify the action. No matter what could be gained the price wasn't worth paying if it meant sacrificing a child's innocent.

"Hey," she says lifting his chin up to look at her. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're different then other people, but you want to know a secret?" She asks softly to which he nods his head. "Everybody is different from everyone else yet everyone is exactly the same to." Again he looks at her like she's lost her mind. She can't help but smile at the boy. "Out here," she says running her fingers through her hair and her exposed skin, "everyone is different. The way we look, the color of our skin, hair, eyes. We're all different, but inside," she adds poking him in the chest, "we're all the same. We have lungs, and a heart. We all have a brain."

He shakes his head slightly, "your heart is here," he says poking her in the chest, "while mine is here," he finishes poking himself in the butt.

"You have a heart. That's all that matters," she tells him. "Besides your not the only special one here," she says picking a rock up from the ground. Holding her palm up with the stone sitting in the middle she phases her hand letting the rock fall through her palm to the ground below.

Scott's eyes go wide as he looks up at her. "How?" He breathes out softly as he picks his hand up extending his finger. Poking her in the hand his finger comes in contact with her palm the first couple times before she phases again allowing his finger to slide through the molecules of her hand.

"I guess I'm special too," she answers with a broad grin.

The black convertible sits at the intersection of the next local hotspot. Inside it five people contemplate the journey ahead of them. While one sleeps blissfully unaware of what is about to happen.

"I still don't see why I have to come along," Lorne complains from the back seat of Angel's convertible sandwiched between Wesley and Cordelia. It wasn't like he was going to be that big of a help in Pylea. He wasn't a warrior like the two vampires and the slayer. Even the watcher was probably a better fight then he was.

"I don't see why we have to bring him along," Angel mutters with a jerk of his head towards the back of the car.

"Finally," Lorne remarks with a huge sigh as he pops up. "Somebody who sees things my way." Cordelia grabs one arm while Wesley grabs the other and together they pull Lorne back down. Lorne looks at the two of them in despair as he grumbles, "but he just said..."

"I can pretty much guarantee that Angel wasn't referring to you," Wesley informs the demon.

Lorne glances over his shoulder at the trunk with a despondent, "oh," escaping his lips.

"Well what're we suppose to do with him?" Buffy demands petulantly.

A sadistically happy grin spreads its way over Angel's face. "Leaving him in a alley with an amazing view of the sun as it breaks over the eastern horizon sounds like a viable option."

"Then how am I going to get back home?"

"I'd be more then willing to drive you," Angel offer graciously.

"Just what I want," Buffy mutters softly, "my new boyfriend meeting my old boyfriend."

Angel glances disgruntle at Buffy as he asks, "why'd Spike drive you if you have a boyfriend?"

Buffy scowls, angry with herself for bringing Riley up in the first place. It still doesn't stop from blurting out, "because we're not talking right now!"

"The sign of a lasting relationship," Angel murmurs.

"Hey! I got every right to be upset with him, he's the one that slept with Faith... Doesn't matter that she was in my body at the time. He should've been able to tell it wasn't me." Turning around to face the back seat she grills them asking, "I don't act like Faith?"

"Well," Wesley begins sputtering as he tries to push himself even further into the leather seat.

"You seem pretty nutty to me," Cordelia tells her. Buffy glares silently at the brunette. "You still don't have a little bit of Faith inside do you?"

Silence reigns in the vehicle as the two strong willed women scowl at each other. "Have I mentioned I'm a wanted criminal back on Pylea?" Lorne inquires trying to get the conversation moving back along.

Intrigued by the statement Wesley asks, "how'd that come about?"

Lorne shrugs, "I left."

Buffy whirls back around finding no support in the back seat. With a slight huff she flips on the radio and slumps down in the seat. Bracing her feet on the dashboard she begins humming softly to herself.

Lorne watches intently as the tiny girl begins to hum. None of the group had been cooperating when it came to his request at Caritas so this was the first chance he was getting to read a member of the group. Aside from Spike, but that boy's future was wrapped up in equal amounts of love and misery that it wasn't funny.

Buffy was set to have a very eventful life. Her future held so much, more then anybody he had ever read before. She was going to face trails, be tested like no one ever before. Her destiny was filled with as much lost as the vampire's, but through the worst of it she would be supported by a love so pure it was nearly blinding.

He sniffles quietly as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his eyes wiping away the tears. "Are you all right?" Cordelia asks the host concern for his well being bubbling to the surface.

Lorne nods his head slightly as he says, "just the thought of going back home and seeing the family for the first time in ages."

"And you're crying because you're so happy to be seeing them all again," she finishes in understanding.

Lorne shoots her a look of horror, "are you insane pudding. More like terrified out off my emerald colored skin at the thought of what their going to do me."

"Don't worry," Angel tells him. "We'll make sure nothing happens to you," he says with confidence. "All right Wesley. Lets get this show on the road. Whatever those two are trying to get their hands on over in Pylea we got put a stop to before they can bring it back here."

The professor had been terrified of that coming to pass. He hadn't known very many details but what he did know frightened the old man nearly senseless. Seidel had said the only reason they had left him alive was so that he could suffer more waiting for them to return.

Wesley opens the book bringing it to the proper page. "Krv Drpglr pwlz chkwrt strplmt dwghzn prqlrzn lffrmtplzt!"

By the time he finishes reading blue energy swirls in front of the car. With a hoarse shout Angel presses down on the accelerator causing the car to jump forward. They plunge ahead, into the blue mass that dominates their field of vision. As it closes the book Wesley had been holding falls to the black pavement, spinning slightly before toppling to the ground.

Groosalug walks through the town. A disquiet expression marring his otherwise sculpted features. He had been told a pitch battle was raging inside the village. That the towns warriors were in desperate need of his help.

Only the town was quiet. Far, far quieter then it normally was.

Reaching the center of town he finds the reason why. The village warriors, most of who were severely wounded, were forming a defensive ring around one lone human. A large, oddly shaped, tan hat sat atop his head and he held a mug of mead in one hand. A dark smoldering brand hung from between his lips as a cloud of smoke billows up around his head.

His pants were torn and bloody. If he had worn a shirt it was gone now exposing a vast array of hard, pack muscles- along with an excessive amount of hair- covering his torso. He sniffs the air then without turning around saying, "think your champion's here."

A bunch of the warriors turn towards him in surprise before clamoring for him to vanquish this mad cow. "I have never been defeated," he says confidently reminding the towns people of his ever victorious reputation plus informing the human that now he isn't facing a mob of armed villagers but a trained and seasoned warrior.

"First time for everything bub," Logan replies. Tilting back the mug of hard mead he polishes off the drink. "Not bad," he continues tossing the mug back to one of the warriors. If it wasn't for the whole slavery issue the feisty mutant thought he could have gotten along with the warrior race. "Little on the watery side, but not bad over all."

Turning around he finally faces Groosalug. "If you surrender now the priest will kill you quickly," the champion of Pylea tells Logan.

"Let's not have them do me any favors," Logan quips lightly.

"It will not go easy for you if you continue to resist."

"Never done anything easy in my life boy. Ain't about to start now," he tells Groosalug. Logan takes a final drag from his cigar before dropping it to the ground and crushing it out underneath his boot. Taking the hat off his head he tosses it onto one of the demon's head. "Hold on to that for me bub, I'll be back in a few minutes to collect it."

Groosalug slips his spiked mace and axe from his belt. "I do not think so," he remarks confidently. "I am Groosalug."

Like always the sound of steel sliding against steel fills the air as Logan's claws spring from the back of his hands. "You can call me Wolverine."

With that the two warriors engage each other at blurring speed. Logan barely deflecting the descending axe, Groosalug whirling away from the claws slicing through the air. Logan ducks under the mace meant to cave in his skull. Groosalug leaping behind Logan as his claws slice the air where his legs use to be. Logan back flips over the axe as Groosalug spins around.

Logan lands facing his blue eye opponent.

Then the two begin exchanging another series of vicious high speed strikes with every intention of spilling the other's life out into the dusty streets.

"They've engaged in combat," the red robe priest informs Silas as he steps gracefully down the steps into the dark chambers.

"Very good," Silas murmurs. "Take your place," he adds with a sweeping gesture.

As Barshon fills the void among his brethren all light in the room vanishes. A moment later eleven candles; three each of red, blue, and black as well as two yellow spring to life. Their flames shooting a foot and a half into the air.

The priest take up a soft chant that slowly begins to rise in volume as the tempo increases. A harsh wind swirls around the room. The candle flames begin to flicker before whirling into tornado like funnels.

Groosalug's hand felt like it had broken hitting the short human's jaw. A moment later he grabs his hand as the claws slash towards his stomach. Logan slams his forehead into Groosalug's face but the warrior doesn't release his grip. Instead he slams his knee into Logan's ribs driving the air from his lungs.

The small mutant could feel something wrong. Odors were fading, his vision wasn't as sharp as it normally was. Groosalug's punches were taking longer to recover from.

He knew the signs well enough to know exactly what was happening to him. Someone out there was giving this punk a hand. Logan didn't think the kid had any idea it was going on. The boy seems far too honorable for that.

Redoubling his efforts he spins, his foot crashing into Groosalug's ribs. There was barely anything behind the kick. The strong punch slams into the back of his head sending him to the ground.

He's back on his feet in an instant. Groosalug jumps back allowing Logan's claws to harmlessly sweep through the air where he had been before moving back in quickly. A solid kick to Logan's chest sends him to the ground again. Rolling to his feet Logan growls savagely as Groosalug fist spins him around.

Logan uses the momentum to spin full circle slashing at Groosalug who grabs hold of his forearm. The champion of Pylea continues on with the spin bringing Logan up and over slamming him face first into the ground with bone crushing force stunning the small man.

________________________________________________________________________

Land of Confusion - Genisis

I must've dreamed a thousand dreams  
Been haunted by a million screams  
But I can hear the marching feet  
They're moving into the street.  
  
Now did you read the news today  
They say the danger's gone away  
But I can see the fire's still alight  
There burning into the night.  
  
There's too many men  
Too many people  
Making too many problems  
And not much love to go round  
Can't you see  
This is a land of confusion.  
  
This is the world we live in  
And these are the hands we're given  
Use them and let's start trying  
To make it a place worth living in.  
  
Ooh Superman where are you now  
When everything's gone wrong somehow  
The men of steel, the men of power  
Are losing control by the hour.  
  
This is the time  
This is the place  
So we look for the future  
But there's not much love to go round  
Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.  
  
This is the world we live in  
And these are the hands we're given  
Use them and let's start trying  
To make it a place worth living in.  
  
I remember long ago -  
Ooh when the sun was shining  
Yes and the stars were bright  
All through the night  
And the sound of your laughter  
As I held you tight  
So long ago -  
  
I won't be coming home tonight  
My generation will put it right  
We're not just making promises  
That we know, we'll never keep.  
  
Too many men  
There's too many people  
Making too many problems  
And not much love to go round  
Can't you see  
This is a land of confusion.  
  
Now this is the world we live in  
And these are the hands we're given  
Use them and let's start trying  
To make it a place worth fighting for.  
  
This is the world we live in  
And these are the names we're given  
Stand up and let's start showing  
Just where our lives are going to.


	5. Chap 5: Games Without Frontiers

__

Chapter Five: Games Without Frontiers

The black convertible leaps from the swirling vortex hovering several inches above the dry, knee high grass covered ground. It's tires tear up chunks of dirt and grass as they touch down, bouncing erratically several times before coming to a stop.

"Shit!" Angel shouts casting a frantic look around as the bright sun beats down on him for the first time in over two centuries, except for that one day he had convinced the Powers That Be to turn back for him.

They had made the decision to leave L. A. at night on the assumption it would be night here as well. Now, because of their lack of research, he was going to fry under a noon day sun.

"There's a tree," Buffy cries coming to the same conclusion as Angel at almost the same time, but without all the recriminations.

Angel leaps out of the car clearing fifteen feet in a single bound. Then he stops. Nothing was happening. There was no sharp itching, no fiery, burning sensations running up his skin. Absolutely nothing.

"Angel! Hurry!" Buffy shouts seeing him come to a stop. "Get under..."

"It's okay!" Angel exclaims gleefully. "It doesn't burn," he calls out after a moment. Holding his arms out wide he spins in a tight circle as he shouts, "it doesn't burn!"

Buffy stares blankly at her ex-boyfriend, suddenly glad she can put the ex there. "I don't believe this," she sputters in a mild state of confusion.

"It's nothing all that spectacular really," Wesley says with an air of self assurance Buffy hasn't heard in the man's voice since his early days in Sunnydale. She was actually sort of glad to hear the confidence returning to his voice. She may not like the man, may in fact never like him, but she didn't like seeing anyone sunk as low as he had been the last time she saw him. Which was actually being carted of on a stretcher now that she thought of it.

It still doesn't stop her from turning disbelieving eyes on the ex-watcher and succinctly asking, "hugh?"

"I'm going to see your hugh and raise a what?" Cordelia comments as her own gaze shifts towards Wesley but still manages to keep Angel in sight just in case he losses a little more of his sanity and goes completely nuts.

"That in this dimension the sun would have no adverse effect on a vampire." Taking a good look at the two young girls uncomprehending faces he decides to simplify his rather in depth explanation that would just be wasted on them. "Simply put a vampire here will not go poof from prolong exposure to the sun," he murmurs brightly.

"Well duh," Cordelia responds waspishly. "That's kind of obvious since he hasn't, how you so eloquent put it, poofed yet."

"But are you looking at him?" Buffy asks pointing at Angel, "with the arms waving and the spinning?" Her voice almost sounding horrified.

"Almost looks like somebody who doesn't know how to do the hokey pokey," Cordelia adds after a beat.

Wesley swallows hard under the intense gaze of the two strong willed woman. "Yes, well... I can quite imagine he'd be feeling slightly... Jubilant on his first occasion of seeing the sun in nearly two and a half centuries. Wouldn't you agree that seeing the sun, any sun after so long a time might make some act..."

Lorne scowls at Wesley for a moment before he hops up on the back seat. "Wanna know what sun I'd like to see right now. It's big and yellow and warms a city called Los Angeles on a planet named Earth, but I'm not getting to see that right now and would you like to guess why?" He rants as he walks down the trunk of Angel's car.

"I thought you understood that we need a guide on your world," Wesley remarks almost bashfully.

"Understood, yes. Agreed, no."

"Would you prates shut the bloody hell up!" Spike shouts from inside the trunk. "How's a bloke suppose to get any bloody sleep with the lot of you blighters jabbering on like a gabble full of old ninnies," he mutters just loud enough to be heard by everyone even through the trunk.

Buffy grins as she plunks the keys from the ignition and hops out of the convertible. A quick glance at the dark, often brooding vampire, reveals Angel lying in the middle of the grassy field with his shirt open soaking up the sun. A wicked grin slips across her lips as she imagines Spike's over dramatized reaction. If Angel was acting like a ten year old on Christmas morning she can't wait to see what the blustering rebel will do.

"Rise and shine," she says popping the lock and flipping the trunk open. "It's a..."

"Aargh!" Spike screams as the sun hits him. Reaching up he grabs the metal crossbar and slams the trunk close. "Bloody hell slayer! Are you trying to kill me you sodding bint?"

"But its not going to kill you," Buffy informs him. With a quick look at Angel she adds, "Angel's lying in it right now."

"And the great poofter can burn for all I care," Spike growls.

"He's not burning," She responds. "Well okay. He might burn but it's more in the blistering, peeling I haven't seen the sun in two hundred and fifty years kind of way not the flaming, burning, poofing I'm a evil bloodsucker kind of way," the tiny blond explains quickly.

"What don't you understand about this? I'm a vampire. I don't do sunlight. Period. End of the soddin discussion," Spike growls at her through the sealed trunk.

Buffy glowers at the metallic lid as she scornfully remarks, "never thought I'd see the day Spike was afraid of something."

Spike snorts from inside the trunk. "Fear ain't got a bloody thing to do with it."

"Then what does?" She demands angrily because Spike wasn't giving into her desire to see him make a fool of himself, not that he knew that was what she wants him to do.

"It's unnatural. Vampires aren't suppose to be running around in the sunlight. Besides... It's just wrong," he responds actually managing to sound sanctimonious.

Buffy laughs softly at his objection. A moment later she says, "this coming from the vampire that attacked me in broad daylight."

"That was different," he growls. "Surprising the enemy with a tactical advantage," he adds unconvincingly.

A few feet away, while Spike and Buffy hold their nearly theological debate on sunlight and vampires, Cordelia places a tentative hand on Lorne's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says with true sincerity to the miserable looking green skin demon. "We really shouldn't have forced you to come back here," she admits softly, "but we really do need your help."

Lorne nods his head as he says, "I know sugar cakes. I'm just not planning on making it easy on them," he admits with a slight smile. Turning toward her he changes the subject, "you know that old saying about great power, great responsibility," at her blank look he shrugs slightly and adds, "well, however it went, its true. Here's another one your friends are going to have to be reminded of. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Cordelia blinks slightly as she says, "Buffy and Angel? Please, they are so like the most uncorrectable people ever. Yeah Angel's got the whole soul with a curse thing going on, but as long..."

"That's the whole point sweetie," he cuts in. "They're human, basically, with human souls. Those are always corruptible," he finishes wit a pointed look at her.

"Um, not to be an alarmist," Wesley calls out from the Angel's car. "But has anyone by chance seen the book we used to open the portal?"

"Aarrghhh!" Logan roars as he lunges forward straining against the chains securing him to the thick dungeon walls. It was a futile gesture. He knew that before he did it, but he did it anyway. His nature, as much as his training, wouldn't allow him to do anything else.

He pulls and strains until the point were most men would have torn their arms from their sockets. Still he pulls harder. The adamatium bonded into his very bones allowing them to withstand nearly anything, anyone can throw at him. Pulling his arms from his sockets is a feat even the Hulk isn't capable of accomplishing.

For whatever reason his captors were allowing a portion of his healing factor to remain active. It wasn't enough to heal him completely, but at least he didn't have to worry about dying from radiation sickness.

The cell he was in was much like any number of dark, dank prison cells he had been chained in over the years. It was dark and dank, and those were it's good qualities. His hairy body, at least, manages to stave off the cold despite his lack of clothing.

Turning around savagely he pops his claws, slicing at the chains holding him. Sparks fly, but nothing else happens. Just like every other time he struck at them. The stone wall is equally resistance to the effects of his unbreakable claws.

His nostrils flare as he picks up a fetid odor floating to him on the stagnant air. Soft footfalls echo dully on the stone floor as half a dozen demons slowly walk down the corridor. He growls deep in his chest as he whirls around to face the door.

Groosulag said the priest would kill him slowly if he resisted. He guesses its about time for his torture to begin.

A moment later the cell door swings inward. First one red robed priest walks in followed by a second, then a third, until five of them form a semi circle in front of him. A few seconds later the last priest enters, this one wearing dark black robes.

Logan can almost taste the evil rolling off him in waves. Its enough to make the heckles on the back of his neck stand on end while he wants to nothing more then empty his stomach.

With a massive animalistic snarl he lunges forward, his claws glinting dangerously, uselessly in the pale light. Right now he'd give anything to be able to tear his arms from their sockets so he could rip this demons throat out with his teeth.

Silas stands less then a foot away from Logan, a smug smile smearing his lips. "Yes, I had heard you were quite the savage, even for a cow, but until now I had no idea just how... Primitive you truly are."

"That's it bub," Logan growls. "Nother step and you'll get to experience my primitiveness first hand."

"Enjoy your freedom while it last. The next time you address me it will be as master," Silas tells Logan his voice full of arrogant confidence.

Logan suddenly jumps into the air. While his hands grab hold of the chains holding him to the wall, he pulls his knees to his chest. A bare instant later they explode outwards smashing into the priest chest driving him out the open door to crash solidly into the opposite wall. He uses the momentum from his kick to flip all the way over, making sure to keep his hands from getting tangled in the chains he lands smoothly on his feet.

While all the priest take a few, wary steps away from him only two rush to the aid of their leader. None of them show it outwardly, but all of them had various levels of amusement mingling in their scents.

Silas surges back through the doorway, self righteous indignation and rage replacing his smooth, smug, arrogance. Spittle flies from his mouth as he shouts, "you'll spend the rest of your life flogging yourself every single night and thanking..."

"Aarrghh!" Logan roars again lunging at the priest.

"Ah!" Silas cries out falling backwards even though he was nowhere close to being in Logan's range. He stands quickly, not being able to have his underlings see his weakness, or his lack of control over this one simple cow. With a final scowl he spins on his heel and sweeps out of the room. The other priest quickly fall to in his wake.

Barshon however lingers for a moment at the door giving Logan a hard speculative look before he pulls the door close.

Logan smiles to himself. When you can't when the big battle settle for winning the little ones. Chip away at your enemy's armor and reveal his weakness. If not for yourself then perhaps someone better suited will take advantage of them when they see the opening. Not that it helps him in his current situation, but anything that would lead to Silas' death would make him happy. For a few moments anyway.

A few high, wispy clouds flow past overhead in the darkening sky briefly obscuring the large moon, that hangs too close for those not native to Pylea, and the few stars, are in the wrong place for them as well. The light breeze that speeds the clouds on their way also cool the warm air to a more tolerable temperature. A temperature the six individuals found a little more comfortable.

The gentle sloping hills are covered with a dry, brown, shin high grass. A double wide, hard packed dirt road cuts through middle of the sun burnt pasture.

It had taken a heroic effort, on Buffy's part, to convince Spike to get out of the trunk, by which point the sun was already half way to the horizon. Hours everyone else had spent tearing Angel's car apart looking for a book that wasn't there. After that the search spread out to the surrounding country side, where the book wasn't found either.

Wesley had finally come to the conclusion that somehow the book must have been left back on Earth and prayed that they would find a similar book here that would be able to send them back home. Lorne had been extremely snide in his running commentary about how he hoped everyone found Pylea as enjoyable as he did.

"Well. Here we are people," Lorne remarks with a broad sweeping gesture towards the small hamlet nestled in the low valley between two squat hills. "The good old homestead," he adds with biting sarcasm. "I always remember it as being more daunting," he says with a shrug. "Then again it wasn't really the buildings I had a problem with, but the vipers that nest in them."

"Bloody wonderful," Spike mutters mirthlessly. "Wager there's not a telly in the whole bleeding dimension."

"Considering I have yet to spot a utility pole I would imagine you are quite correct in your assessment," Wesley wordily agrees.

Spike ignores the young ex-watcher as he addresses Buffy, grumbling angrily, "if we don't get back to Earth right quick slayer, before the next episode of Passions, I'm gonna add myself a third slayer to my tally," he finishes menacingly.

"Actually," Wesley begins excitedly, "we have no idea how much time is going to pass on Earth. One day here could be..."

At the same time Wesley begins Buffy turns an dark scowl on the bleach blonde wonder. "I'd like to you try that chip boy. You even glare to hard and you're gonna be on the ground begging me to drive a stake through your heart."

Spike's sneer intensifies to the point were Buffy thinks that all it would take is for one stray spark flickering in his eyes to start a raging wild fire. "I'm not wanting you to dust me yet, fact I'm starting to get a craving for slayer blood, and looky what my little old eyes do perceive. Why if it isn't a scared little slayer lost in the woods on her way to Grandma's house," he taunts her.

Buffy takes a slow deliberate step forward. Her hand instinctively going for the stake she always keeps hidden in her waist band. For a moment Spike doubts his decision to bait her with some of the stories he heard while chained up in Giles' bathtub. He doesn't back down though.

Before anything can happen Angel places a hand on their shoulders and shoves both of them hard enough to cause the two to stumble back a step. After listening to their constant bickering, like an old married couple that could do nothing other then grate on each other's- plus everyone else's- nerves all the time. He was more then fed up with it. "Would the two of you shut up," he snarls, his head whipping back and forth between them and their indignant glares. "Or am I going to have to put the two of you separate corners?"

"Like to see you bloody try that peaches," Spike growls turning his full attention on Angel. "Seeing how you're a... What do they call them, oh yeah right. Vampire. Vampires being demons and oh yeah, this is the best part. I can still kill demons, so unless you wanna see just how quickly you can turn into a big pile dust. Get the bloody hell out of my face!" He yells straining forward making Angel lean back just a bare fraction of an inch, but enough to make it seem like he was cowering before the young vampire.

"Hey!" Buffy shouts shoving Spike back. "You can't go around talking to him like that," she continues in a hiss that could be heard miles off. She was still upset with Angel. He didn't have any right to judge her, especially about events he didn't have a clue on, and even less to say some of the things he had.

For some reason though she was even more upset with Spike. The Billy Idol reject had always been able to rile her up without even half trying. Since getting the chip in his head and the two of them spending more time around each other it was getting progressively worse. What had taken minutes previously, now only took seconds. In fact the only time they had been semi civil to each other was during Willow's my will be done spell, and still there had been that aching need to bait each other. Like it was so deeply ingrained into their bones there was no way they could fight it.

"We had an agreement, deal, extension on our already tenuous truce..." she begins.

"That while I was in LA, LA land the great poofter didn't have to worry his sorry, expanding ass off about me going after him," Spike finishes for her. "In case you haven't notice goldilockes we ain't exactly in Los Angeles anymore," he points out with a viscous sneer over her head at Angel.

Wesley had at first taken one cautious step away from the three super humans once they began bickering amongst themselves. Then decides that several more might come in handy if the conflagration combusted. The last thing he wants is to wind up a splat, or a bloody smear on the back of someone's poorly aimed fist. An odd thought bubbles in his head as he wonders about the chip implanted in Spike's brain, weather it was even functioning right now.

There were too many variables, too many unknowns as to what the hardware's operating parameters might be, its power source, and so on to form a definitive answer and he wasn't about to ask Spike to punch Buffy, Cordelia, or himself to find out. It would be sort of like placing a starving lion in a low ceiling cage full of monkeys and since he and Cordelia were the only two monkeys present it would be better to leave the lion as it was.

With a quick glance at the former high school May Queen he reminds himself it would probably be wise to never mention that analogy to her or else worrying about weather Spike was likely to eat him would suddenly seem like a small problem in comparison. 

"Don't they just make the cutest couple?" Lorne murmurs, more to himself then anyone else, as he watches the two dye blondes interact.

Cordelia steps up beside him. "You still can't be going on with that whole their meant to be together spiel you've been going on with? Can you?" She questions him with a confused little frown creasing her forehead.

Lorne shrugs lightly. Him and Cordelia had been talking most of the trek to his family's ancestral home, and he found her surprisingly easy to talk to. "Listen pudding. I know what I know and that pair of dumplings is going to be stewing together for a long while. If they actually admit that they're in love with each other and what they're feeling isn't just the residue of some stray, sort of, love spell..."

"Someone cast a love spell on them?" She doubtfully questions Lorne, as a very horrified look settles on her face while she gazes past the green demon to where Buffy and Spike are still shoving their fingers in each other face as they fire waspish and stinging insults, while Angel looks on in amazement.

"Mmm," he sounds scrunching his face up lightly. "More like someone just... Made it so they didn't care what people thought. Sort of released them from the inhibitions they feel where each other is concerned. Something along those lines, it's kind of hard to read given the amount of time that's passed since then," he finishes with a bashful shrug.

Cordelia gaze shifts back to Lorne as she blurts out, "you're serious?" Her voice having risen an octave with her question. She gives her head a small jerk as she regains control of her shock. In a fractionally quieter voice she continues by asking, "they're meant to be together?"

Lorne frowns, a slight down turning of his lips. "It's like this. If they admit they're in love with each other we're talking one of those sickeningly sweet movie of the weeks they show on the romance channel."

The brunette gives him a deeply concern look while asking, "and if they don't?"

He shudders at her query. "Pain, misery, death, life, more of the same. Rinse and repeat," he tells her casting a quick peak at the animated three way argument between the two vampires, one with a soul one with a chip, and the slayer- with Wesley occasionally trying to get a word in.

It was an erratic, disparaging argument that Lorne couldn't make sense of. Buffy was angry with Angel for verbally attacking Spike for some demeaning comment he made about her. According to the tiny slayer she neither needs or wants someone that walks away from their relationship because of a few stumbling blocks jumping to her rescue. She was a big girl now and more then capable of defending herself thank you very much. Then she turns around and jumps down Spike's throat for siding with her. After that the entire thing falls into, Lorne would have said disarray, but it was already there.

"I still think you've got your horns crossed, but..." Cordelia remarks leaving the thought hanging there. Granted, she didn't really like Buffy, but she was sort of a friend and she had saved her live on an almost a weekly basis back in high school and she wasn't the type of person who lets her debts go unpaid. "What can I do to help?" She finally asks wanting to make some sort of restitution to both Buffy and Spike since she does owe both of them and she never did get to properly thank Spike for his involvement in ruining her Senior year and hooking him up with Buffy seems like a fitting payment, she muses to herself silently.

"Be there. Let her know it doesn't matter who she's in a relationship with so long as she's happy."

Cordelia blinks at him as she gripes, "you've got to be kidding me. We can barely be civil with each for a few minutes at a time."

Everything about the entire situation rankles Kitty. She has seen this same play time and time again and it never ends well. Especially for the enhanced children that have been turned into killing machines.

Even if they did manage to survive the wars or the revolutions they were trained to fight seldom, if ever, did they survive the Governments they helped install. Often it was those they put in power hunting them down in the end because they were no longer deemed useful and were still too dangerous to be left untethered.

She wasn't about to allow that to happen to Scott.

Kitty knew what she had to do after spending the afternoon hanging out with Scott. An afternoon she spent asking innocuous questions that had painted a picture she was hoping not to see, but one she had more then been expecting. It also afforded her the opportunity to get to know the extremely mature- almost unnaturally so- young boy.

Scotty, as she had taken to calling him, has been with these rebels for nearly three years now. His mother, a woman born on Earth, died unexpectedly shortly after their arrival. After refusing to allow the warriors to take her child. According to Scott she had taken ill one day and was dead by nightfall, but he had never been allowed to see the body. After that the elder, Bolvin Coun, had taken and given his raising over Cilac Hrit who was the best warrior in the camp.

The only reason Scott hadn't been at his normal lessons today was because Hrit had been out with a hunting party tracking down and killing a local predator that was making a nuisance of itself lately. If not for that she doesn't think they would have let her near him. Most of the camps residents are native to Pylea and have a heavy dislike for anything or anyone from off world.

Kitty saw how the members of this community treat him. How everyone was towards him, and her just because for associating with him. Like he was a barely tolerable pet. 

Stealthily, silently she slips through the makeshift camp. With skill that border on the preternatural she glides from shadow to shadow. She wasn't actually skulking, but she was taking care not to be seen by the rugged inhabitants that call the camp home.

Phasing, she easily slips into Scott's small one man tent, that was right alongside Cilac's larger pavilion, through the back wall. Placing a small hand over his mouth Kitty gives him a quick shake waking him up. The young boy struggles for a brief moment before recognizing who is in the tent with him. She places a finger over her lips indicating they should be as quiet as possible and he nods his head.

"It's just me," she whispers. Her soft words barely audible in the small enclosure.

He gives his head a slight jerk as he pulls back wondering why the endearing newcomer is inside his tent. He asks as much as he hisses, "why're you here?"

Kitty cringes at the loudness of his voice in the small space. "Shh, we need to be quiet so we don't wake anyone up or alert the guards."

"What are you doing here?" He demands if anything in a slightly louder voice.

"I'm getting you out of here is what I'm doing here," she answers decisively.

Scott's eyes widen in shock and outrage as he tries to bolt away from her, but Kitty manages to hold him in place. "I belong here," he growls savagely. "To lead my people to freedom."

Kitty latches on to him with both hands, her dark, penetrating eyes pinning him where he is. "You belong someplace you can be a child, not held up like some leprous messiah. You deserve to be someplace where you can have friends, play with children your own age, not fighting a revolution before you turn thirteen. A cold blooded killer by fifteen. You deserve better then what these people are going to give you. You deserve more, a real childhood," she tells him urgently.

He looks at her with the same wariness in his eyes as he did when first meeting her. While he understands what she is saying the meaning behind her words eludes him. He can however hear the desperate pleading in her voice. Like what she is telling him is extremely important, perhaps the most important thing she will ever say. "It's the same everywhere. Wherever I go it's going to be the same."

Kitty shakes her head as she whispers, "maybe on this world but not on mine."

"Yours," Scott blurts out in disbelieve. "There isn't no way back to your world."

"Anyway," she corrects absently as she considers what he just said. Giving him a sharp look she continues, "if there's a way from my world to this world then it stands to reason the opposite is true as well. We just have to find it."

"The priest," he exclaims just a little too loudly.

"Priest?" She inquires softly.

He nods his head vigorously as he answers. "To the east of here, a day. Maybe..."

Kitty holds her finger up in front of her lips. Outside loose dirt shifts under the hard soles of somebody's boots. She waits anxiously, poised to react instantly if someone should poke their head into the small tent.

Because of his training Scott can feel that while Kitty might be loose and relaxed her body hovers on the verge of action. Ready to move on the moment like a true warrior. Her guard doesn't lower until after the footsteps fade from his hearing. Even then she's still ready to act.

When her dark eyes finally settle back on him their tinged with regret. She takes a deep breath. "I can't force you to go with me Scott," she tells him knowing in her heart if she did it would make her know better then the people she's trying to save him from no matter how noble her reasons. Lifting her right hand she brushes back a lock of his unruly chestnut brown hair out of his eyes. "This is a decision you have to make for yourself. You can sty here, where most of the people treat you like a wild animal. As something less then human, fulfill the role a group of bitter old man have picked out for you... Or you can come with me and we can find a way back to my world, and while things might not be perfect on Earth no one is going to expect you to lead a revolution before your prom."

Scott looks at her deeply. At the moisture in the corner of her eyes. He could hear something strange in her voice. Something he hasn't heard in anyone's voice when talking to him in a very long time, since his mother. Concern.

Concern for him. Concern for his wants, his needs.

With everyone else it was always about how he was going to have to do what was best for the people.

It was as simple as choosing between those two facts. One person whose only concern was for him compared to hundreds of people who care nothing for him.

He takes her hand in his giving her slight nod along with his bravest, this doesn't hurt, face.

Kitty slight smile brightens her face. She hadn't been sure which way he would choose. "Is there anything you need?" She asks softly having a vague idea of what he must be feeling right now. "If so bring it with you because we're never going to be coming back here again."

Scott jabs his hand back into the loose pile of rags that make up his bedding and pulls out a small gold medallion. "It's all I have of my mother's," he mumbles defensively. As if him having it was wrong.

Kitty nods as she tightens her grip on his hand. "Then keep a tight hold on it," she tells him simply. "Anything else?" He gives a little shake of his head in answer to her question. "Ready? Take a deep breath then," she adds after his curt nod.

He does and she phases them through the back wall of the tent. Now was going to be the hardest part. Getting out of the camp unnoticed. By herself it wouldn't have been a problem, swim underground, walk out above their heads, or just slip through the camp using the shadows to keep from being seen.

With Scott at her side she was going to be sticking to the ground, unless circumstances, or the natives, force her to take more extreme action.

Scott quickly impresses Kitty with his skill as he moves through the camp as soundlessly as she does. Silently they make their way to the edge of the settlement.

"What do we have here?" A gravely voice demands from out of the darkness. A large, cruel looking man with a savage, zagging scar that runs the length the left side of his face, from chin to brow, pulling the corner of his mouth into a vicious parody of a grin.

"Cilac," Scott moans tightly.

Kitty takes a close look at the man as two others step out cutting of her avenues of escape. Or so they thought. If this was indeed the man instructing Scott then he was probably more dangerous then he appears. Which was fine with Kitty. The young mutant didn't feel like playing nice today anyway. "We're leaving," she informs him in a firm, unwavering voice.

He glances at her lazily even while his fingers tighten on his sword hilt. "you can leave whenever you like girlie. The half breed stays."

"Scott goes with me," she replies emphasizing his name as she keeps herself between Scott and Calic.

Scott frantically pulls on her arm as he shouts, "Kitty no! He'll..." He suddenly stumbles back a few steps as Kitty phases. He hadn't known she was capable of making only her body intangible while she was touching someone else.

"It's okay Scotty," Kitty says in a deadly calm voice. Locking eyes with Calic she adds, "one way or another," with steel in her voice.

"So be it," he growls whipping his sword out of its sheath in one smooth motion.

Calic moves fast, Kitty moves faster. Stepping forward towards the outside of his right shoulder, her right hand delivering a hard knife hand strike to his left wrist as she tucks the thumb of her right hand flat across the palm and strikes upward with a ridge hand strike into his tricep. His sword drops from suddenly nerveless fingers.

Her right hand wraps around his wrist and she twists his arm savagely forcing his palm towards the starry sky. Pivoting to the inside she slams her left elbow into his solar plexus. As he buckles forward her left backfist catches him flush in the nose then slips up around his head and into his hair, latching on painfully as she jerks him up and over as she drops to a knee.

He hits the ground with bone jarring force just as Scott shouts, "behind you!"

Kitty's fingers wrap around the hilt of the sword and she spins around on one knee. The soldier jumps back barely avoiding getting split open by her slicing swing. As Kitty's sword moves past he lunges forward in an attempt to skewer her. She brings the sword back, expertly parrying his thrust moving the blade out away from her.

Overextending and meeting no resistance he begins to fall forward. Surprise registers on his face for a moment as he realizes she isn't just some girl with her hands on a blade for the first time. Kitty surges upwards as he stumbles, smashing the hilt of the sword into his face knocking him to his back as he clutches his face at the pain that explodes from his broken nose while the blood spurts.

"Another one!"

Kitty whirls around aware of the activity stirring in the camp as the steel striking steel rings out in the night. She blocks upward deflecting the downward chop. Using her blade to guide his, she arcs them in a wide circle, up then down and away, tossing him off balance. She spins in the opposite direction, shifting her grip on the hilt slightly, she hits him across the back of his head with the flat of her blade. He crumples to the ground like a boneless sack.

She whirls around again scanning the area. Fires burn brightly deep inside the camp. A few move towards them but nothing close yet.

Scott stares up at Kitty with wide eyes hardly able to believe what he just witnessed. He had never seen anything like it, from anyone let alone a girl. From beginning to end the entire confrontation had taken only seconds. The three best warriors he has ever seen and Kitty dispatched them in heartbeats, with seemingly no effort. More amazing then that was the fact she didn't kill any of them.

"How?" He breathes out in awe.

Kitty grabs his hand as she says, "I'll tell you later," while giving him a slight tug to get him going. She knows there is very little chance of them getting any sleep tonight and she wants to put as much distance between them and the camp as possible. She had gotten lucky tonight, but she knows she can't count on her luck holding out forever. Sooner or later she was going to be forced into killing someone to keep them free. She just hopes it's later. Much, much later.

Fred crouches down in front of her small pool of water making a show washing her clothes, the cool air inside her cave doing little to keep the sweet from trickling down her bare back. She is trying to act as normal as possible, just as Faith had instructed her a few minutes ago. It was hard trying to act like she always did knowing a handful of demons were about to pay her visit.

Oddly though she wasn't as nervous as she thought since she was almost always nervous to begin with wondering if this was going to be the day that she was discovered. Knowing that they were coming was almost a relief because there was no more wondering about if they were coming or not since they were on their way.

It sort of took all the guess work out of it.

At least she didn't have to worry about keeping the water clean anymore. She had already filled up everything that could hold water, with water. Plus her and Faith had drank as much as they could. Maybe twice as much as she could considering the queasy feeling in her stomach.

She had just been trying to keep up with Faith, the raven hair girl who had dropped in on her unexpectedly the other day. She was incredible...

Fred stops reevaluating her thoughts, she was smart enough to recognize a Freudian slip when she hears one. She had meant it was incredible the way Faith was back up on her feet already, barely more then a day after suffering injuries that would have killed anyone else. Fred wasn't sure if it was her slayer powers that kept her alive or if it was just Faith being Faith and doing what she shouldn't be capable of.

So she thought Faith was incredible, and why shouldn't she. The young brunette was a slayer, someone chosen to fight the forces of darkness, protect the world, keeping everyone safe from the creatures of the night. That sounds like the makings of a pretty incredible person to her.

Somewhere in the back of her head she wonders if that is the real reason she thinks Faith is suck an incredible person. If her feelings didn't have more to do with a pair of haunting brown eyes that see right through her, piercing her heart with their sadness. Then there was the fact that Faith was an amazingly beautiful woman with an incredible- there was that word again- body, nearly flawless in its perfection.

Fred ducks her head slightly with the thoughts running rampant through her mind. She had never seen herself being attracted to women, or falling in love with one. Then again she had never seen herself living as a slave in another dimension either. Who ever really knew where life was going to take them, or what surprises it was going to place along your path. The most that could be hoped for was that the good out weighed the bad. 

Faith couldn't help but smile as she watches the little spaz's smooth back while she stands motionless in the dark shadows by the caves entrance. Fred was extremely thin, too thin, but that was to be expected with living off what could be scavenged or stolen from the villages in the surrounding area.

It was something Faith was actually looking forward to doing when they got back to Earth. Taking Fred out and just watching her eat. A little dream she knew in her heart was never going to happen.

It didn't stop her from having it though.

She had learnt a lot about Fred last night, this morning, and the rest of the day. Like the food she misses the most. Taco Bell's tocos, burritos, and enchiladas. Which according to Fred go great after smoking a big fatty, not that she ever had because it was illegal and it was wrong to break the law- she had nearly sounded like Buffy when she said that. That she misses her physics classes with Professor Seidel- Faith found she just didn't have the heart to tell her what the good professor was really like- almost as much as she misses her parents.

There was more, the auburn hair brunette had this knack to ramble on about anything and everything for hours on end. Faith thought it might be an affliction brought on with extreme intelligence. The smarter a person was the more they could babble because Fred could certainly put Willow to shame with the amount of chatter that flows out of her mouth. Unlike the shy redhead Faith didn't mind listening to Fred go on and on and on.

She found it cute.

It was strange for Faith to have someone willing to talk to her, but she also knew the only reason Fred did was because she didn't know what she is really like. Didn't know the evil and cruelty that rages within her. Didn't know about the violence that was a part of her. Constantly churning, straining, threatening to burst free at any given moment. Sometimes without the slightest provocation.

Faith knows she is about to lose that peaceful, easy feeling Fred exudes around her with what was about to take place.

It was only a few minutes ago that her slayer senses had gone off like a bell ringing inside her skull. It was the first time since her arrival here that a demon had come within range.

It wasn't like Earth. There it was a vibe, a sense of wrongness. Here it was literally like somebody ringing a small gong that resonates through her skull.

Faith wasn't sure what she was capable of right now, most of it would depend on how strong the demons were. After almost a full day of rest she thought she was close to seventy-five percent, but it could easily be closer to fifty. Another day and she wouldn't have given a second thought about going out there and taking whatever was coming at them head on.

In fact she would prefer that to lying in wait.

And waiting and waiting. For nearly two minutes now, but at least she was starting to hear their soft footfalls, on the loose gravel like dirt, as they make their way up the slight embankment.

She waits silently as the two green skin demons, oddly reminiscent of the club owner, slip almost soundlessly into the cave. Their subtle movements were loud to her slayer hearing.

They stop a few feet beyond the entrance staring at Fred's exposed back as she washes up in the pool of water. They turn their heads in unison to glance at each other sharing a slight vile smirk and malicious chuckle. One of them says something pointing at Fred.

Faith doesn't understand the words but the meaning is more then clear. Her blood boils on the instant as a chill runs over her blazing skin. A haze slips over her eyes and all she can see is red.

She moves forward, pouncing with the ferocity of an enraged tiger. Her right fist punches clean through his chest where, if he was human his heart would have been. Grabbing hold of his left shoulder she levers herself up smashing her right knee into the back of his partner's skull as her left leg slips up and over his head cinching in around his throat.

Flexing every single muscle in her body simultaneously, many in ways that would not be possible for a normal human, even with decades worth of gymnastic, dance, and intense martial arts training. Her legs yank backwards, towards the cave floor, her torso twist upwards and around as she hurls the demon she punched though the chest into the corner of a wall, snapping his back like a dry twig and turning his internal organs to mush.

As the second soldier hits the floor with a bone crushing thud, she spins in a tight circle directly over him. A split second later her knees drive into his chest turning his ribs to powder as she lands on top of him. She growls savagely as her fist crashes into his face the first time. And again a fraction of a second later. And again and again and again as she rains one high powered punch after another down upon him.

Time loses all meaning for her as she pounds the creature under her into bloody paste.

Fred knows, even as her small hand reaches out latching onto Faith's arm, that there was no way she could stop the powerful slayer. Still she had to try. She couldn't just sit back and watch as Faith's punches did as much damage to herself as they did to the Pylean native.

To her surprise, as much as Faith's, her arm stops instantly once contact is made. Faith looks up at the caring brunette with something akin to horror shining in her eyes as she gazes into Fred's warm, gentle, understanding brown orbs. There is no fear or revulsion or any of the dozen different emotions she had thought she would see there and that terrifies the harden slayer more then anything ever has.

Feeling a sudden urge to flee Faith tries to jerk her arm out of Fred's grasp, only her fingers don't loosen their light hold and her arm doesn't budge. She tries again with the same results. One more time and the same thing happens.

She stays right where she is. Melting, or maybe it was drowning, into the most compassionate eyes she has ever seen. She can feel all her defenses shutting down, switching off, without so much as a by your leave captain, much less the proper password being given, or security clearances being issued, verified, and authenticated.

Tears begin welling up in her eyes as nearly seventeen years of pain, misery, abuse, and neglect come crashing down around her. As Faith ducks her head trying to hide her shame, she again tries to pull free.

This time she manages to move, only its towards Fred instead of away from her as the older, bone thin, brunette pulls the crying girl into her arms. Totally and completely unaware she has yet to put her clothes back on as her concern for Faith had over ridden everything else.

Fred doesn't say anything, doesn't know what to say as she presses Faith's cheek, wet from her hot tears to the cool flesh of her shoulder. Ignoring the heat she feels blossoming in her loins she does the only thing she can think of to soothe Faith. She whispers gentle words as she holds her, stroking her long, luxuriant, dark tresses.

Again she doesn't think about how much she enjoys the feel of Faith's silken hair on her skin. Her only concern was in helping her friend feel better.

Everything else she would worry about later.

__________________________________________________________________

Games Without Frontiers - Peter Gabriel

Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres

Jeux sans frontieres

Hans plays with Lotte, Lotte plays with Jane  
Jane plays with Willi, Willi is happy again  
Suki plays with Leo, Sacha plays with Britt  
Adolf builts a bonfire, Enrico plays with it  
Whistling tunes we hid in the dunes by the seaside  
Whistling tunes we're kissing baboons in the jungle  
It's a knockout  
If looks could kill, they probably will  
In games without frontiers

War without tears

If looks could kill, they probably will  
Games without frontiers

War without tears

Games without frontiers

War without tears  
  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres  
  
Andre has a red flag, Chiang Ching's is blue  
They all have hills to fly them on except for Lin Tai Yu  
Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games  
Hiding out in tree-tops, shouting out rude names  
Whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside  
Whistling tunes we piss on the goons in the jungle  
It's a knockout  
If looks could kill they probably will  
In games without frontiers

Wars without tears  
If looks could kill they probably will  
In games without frontiers

War without tears  
Games without frontiers

War without tears  
  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres

Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres

Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres  
Jeux sans frontieres

Jeux sans frontieres


End file.
